^1 


i 


A  CRITICISM  of  SOME 

ATTEMPTS  TO  RATIONALIZE 

TRAGEDY 


tiy 

l.UCIUS    WALTER    ELDER 


A  THESIS 

Presented  to  the  Faculty  of  the  Graduate  School  of  the 

University  of  Pennsylvania  in  Partial  Fulfilment 

of  the  Requirements  for  the  Deiiree 

of  Doctor  of  Philosophy 


A  CRITICISM  of  SOME 

ATTEMPTS  TO  RATIONALIZE 

TRAGEDY 


LUCIUS    WALTER    ELDER 


A  THESIS 

Presented  to  the  Faculty  of  the  Graduate  School  of  the 

University  of  Pennsylvania  in  Partial  Fulfilment 

of  the  Requirements  for  the  Degree 

of  Doctor  of  Philosophy 


kivy^fsUr  C.//ege,    J"®"-  1.    ''^'^ 


PREFACE. 

It  is  now  ten  years  since  the  problem  of  this  study 
took  form  in  my  mind.  It  had  its  origin  in  a  chance 
remark  which,  as  I  remember  it  at  this  distance,  was  to 
the  effect  that  in  ancient  tragedy  there  was  a  clear  vision 
of  a  solution  for  the  difficulties  confronting  man;  but,  in 
modem  tragedy  there  was  no  such  possibility  present  to 
the  mind  of  the  reflective  poet.  Ruskin  expresses  a  sim- 
ilar judgment,  quoted  hereafter. 

My  first  attack  on  the  problem  was  to  verify  the 
assertion  by  an  inductive  survey  of  tragic  drama,  both 
ancient  and  modern.  The  main  result  of  this  reading  was 
to  give  the  problem  a  different  form;  and  the  issue  then 
became :  Are  not  the  difficulties  of  a  solution  of  the  tragic 
outlook  to  be  explained  as  correlates  of  the  theory  of 
knowledge?  The  essay  may  therefore  be  regarded  as  an 
attempt  to  justify  putting  the  problem  in  that  way.  The 
task  resolved  itself  into  a  search  through  the  literature  of 
Western  Europe  for  an  idea :  namely,  What  relation  have 
men  found  between  the  causes  of  tragic  disaster  and  the 
failure  of  knowledge  to  give  valid  results?  Thus,  the 
study,  though  historical  in  method,  makes  no  claim  to 
have  exhausted  the  resources;  but  claims,  rather,  to  be 
critical  of  results  assumed  to  be  defined  with  historical 
accuracy. 

The  aim  of  the  thesis  is  to  show  that  in  the  better 
known  conceptions  of  tragedy  the  failure  of  the  poets  and 
aesthetic  philosophers  to  give  us  a  completely  rational 
theory  may  be  explained  by  reference  to  the  more  inclu- 
sive theory  of  knowledge  forming  the  background  of  the 
tragic  conception.  The  thesis  shows  in  detail  that,  when 
the  responsibility  for  the  tragic  situation  is  put  on  one  or 
the  other  of  the  essential  factors,  the  theory  about  the 
fact  of  tragedy  is  still  unsatisfactory.  It  is  further  shown 
that  aesthetic  speculation,  in  attempting  to  remedy  the 
matter,  increases  the  gravity  of  the  conception.    The  expo- 


F. 


sition   of  this   point  is   developed   through   three  typical 
moments  in  the  history  of  thought.     These  are: 

1.  The  theory  that  the  mischances  of  fortune  may  be 
overcome  by  retiring  into  the  self  based  on  the  theory  of 
knowledge  held  by  Stoics,  Epicureans,  and  Skeptics,  re- 
spectively. 

2.  The  theory  that  passion,  as  a  source  of  tragedy, 
may  be  avoided  by  subjecting  the  emotions  to  the  disci- 
pline of  reason.  A  basis  for  this  theory  is  found  in  the 
philosophy  of  Spinoza  and  Leibniz. 

3.  The  theory  that  tragic  guilt  is  inherent  in  the 
nature  of  the  finite  individual.  The  explanation  of  this 
theory  rests  on  the  philosophy  of  Hegel,  Solger,  Schell- 
ing,  and  others. 

In  each  of  these  cases  it  is  pointed  out  that  there  is 
an  unknowable  element  in  the  universe  which  passes  over 
into  the  corresponding  conception  of  tragedy  as  an  ele- 
ment not  amenable  to  human  will;  and  that,  therefore,  it 
is  something  which  cannot  be  completely  rationalized. 
From  a  consideration  of  these  matters  it  seems  consistent 
to  suppose  that  the  worlds  of  tragedy  and  comedy  are 
metaphysically  different;  and  the  attempt  to  view  tragedy 
as  a  higher  kind  of  comedy  is  likewise  open  to  criticism. 

I  accept  this  opportunity  to  express  a  sense  of  indebt- 
edness to  former  teachers.  To  those  in  the  University  of 
Michigan  I  owe,  at  least  in  large  part,  the  very  habits  of 
my  thought.  How  unworthily  I  have  profited,  they  only 
will  be  able  to  to  judge;  and  my  vagaries  of  thought,  or 
inaccuracies  of  scholarship,  must  not  be  laid  to  their 
account.  As  little  are  my  teachers  in  the  University  of 
Pennsylvania  responsible  for  my  shortcomings.  To  them 
I  am  indebted  for  the  generous  help,  the  kindly  criticism, 
the  patience  and  forbearance,  which  made  the  completion 
of  this  essay  possible. 

Lucius  W.  Elder. 

Kingfisher  College,  January  1,  1915. 


ai  041 1 


ANALYTICAL  TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 

PREFACE 


I.     STATEMENT  OF  THE  PROBLEM 6 

Conception  of  tragedy  and  the  tragic  situation, 
6;  essential  factors  of  the  tragic  situation,  6; 
their  variable  connotation,  7;  each  subject  to  a 
two-fold  analysis,  8;  point  of  view  outlined, 
9-10. 

II.  RELATIONS  OF  REFLECTIVE  THOUGHT 

TO  ART 11 

Conception  of  beauty,  11-12;  philosophy  and 
aesthetic  speculation,  13 ;  knowledge  and  human 
endeavor,  13 ;  unknowable  element  in  specula- 
tion on  tragedy,  14-15;  difficulty  of  and  ideal- 
istic view,  16;  inadequacy  of  poetic  justice,  17; 
divergences  from  the  Aristotelian  view,  17-19. 

IIL     TESTIMONY  OF   THE   POETS 20 

Interpretation  of  dramatic  practice,  20-22 ;  Rus- 
kin's  dictum,  23;  general  outlook  of  ancient 
tragedy,  24 ;  outlook  in  modern  tragedy :  Brown- 
ing and  Ibsen,  25-27;  tragic  purport  of  the 
"dynamic,"  27. 

IV.  THE  MISFORTUNES  OF  GREAT  MEN.  ...  28 
Renaissance  criticism  of  the  innate  as  irra- 
tional, 28 ;  Marlowe  and  others  attack  the  divine 
right  of  kings,  29;  tragic  element  in  the  falls 
of  princes,  30-32 ;  testimony  from  literature, 
33-34 ;  the  conceit  of  fortune  and  its  remedy, 
35-36. 

V.     OVERCOMING  THE  OUTER  WORLD  WITH- 
IN THE  SELF 37 

1.     The  Idea  in  the  Ancient  World 37 

A  difficulty  in  the  interpretation  of  Aris- 
totle and  of  the  Greek  tragic  poets,  37-40 ; 
the  defeat  of  chance  for  the  Stoic,  Epi- 
curean, and  for  the  Skeptic,  40-42. 


2.  The  Idea  in  the  Middle  Ages  and  the  Renais- 
sance      42 

The  remedy  for  Fortune  in  Boethius,  43 ;  in 
the  mathematical  thought  of  the  Renais- 
sance, 45-46. 

3.  The  Seventeenth  Century  and  the  Enlight- 
enment      47 

Irrationality  of  emotion,  47-48;  illustrated 

in  Descartes  and  Spinoza,  49 ;  and  by 
Racine,  50;  the  testimony  of  Lessing  and 
Leibniz,  50-51. 

VI.     THE  SPECULATIVE  OUTCOME 52 

Speculation  adds  to  the  horror  of  tragedy,  52- 
53;  consequences  of  rejecting  poetic  justice, 
53-54;  tragedy  of  metaphysical  weakness,  55; 
idea  of  tragedy  in  the  philosophy  of  valuation, 
55;  two  consequences  of  tragedy  of  metaphys- 
ical weakness,  56-57  ;  criticism  of  Hegel,  58-59 ; 
and  of  Solger,  59-60 ;  summary  of  results,  60-61. 

VII.     THE    IRRATIONAL   ELEMENT   AND    THE 

COMIC  CONFLICT 61 

Relations  of  comedy  and  tragedy,  61-64;  con- 
trasted on  the  basis  of  the  theory  of  knowledge, 
65-66;  the  function  of  knowledge  in  tragedy, 
66;  in  comedy,  67;  the  higher  concrete  proc- 
esses in  comedy,  68-70;  illustrated  by  Goethe's 
Iphigeneia,  69 ;  rational  and  irrational  elements 
in  tragedy  and  comedy,  70-72. 

Vm.     GENERAL  SUMMARY 72 

NOTES  AND  REFERENCES 77 


I. 

Statement  of  the  Problem. 

The  more  important,  or  better  known,  definitions  and 
conceptions  of  tragedy  are,  in  this  essay,  to  be  considered 
as  so  many  attempts  to  rationalize  one  or  another  of  the 
elements  commonly  supposed  to  constitute  the  tragic  situ- 
ation. We  may  accept  provisionally  as  the  tragic  situa- 
tion that  ethical  moment  in  the  life  of  the  finite  human 
individual  wherein  he  finds  such  an  obstacle  to  the  com- 
plete fruition  of  his  purpose,  that,  when  he  would  have 
chosen  what  seemed  to  him  the  better  way,  he  was,  never- 
theless, obliged  for  some  reason  to  accept  the  worse".  The 
result,  to  be  tragic  to  the  individual,  must  be  of  such  a 
kind  as  to  force  the  belief  that  human  endeavor  is  futile. 

Whatever  may  be  the  motive  that  leads  to  the  experi- 
ence of  the  insuperable  obstacle:  namely,  conduct  moti- 
vated by  passion,  by  disregard  of  recognized  moral  prin- 
ciples, or  by  any  conscious  aspiration;  if,  in  the  result, 
there  is  suffering  and  defeat  too  great  to  be  borne;  con- 
tradiction in  ethical  principles  too  fundamental  to  be 
resolved ;  limitation  to  human  aspirations  too  definite  to  be 
overcome: — then  we  have  a  tragic  situation.  In  other 
words,  it  may  be  said  that  the  factors  commonly  assumed 
to  be  essential  to  the  tragic  situation  are  three : 

1.  the  tragic  guilt;  j 

2.  the  reversal  of  fortune; 

3.  the  inevitable  conditions  leading  to  the  catas- 
trophe. 

These  factors,  though  here  given  in  their  traditional 
phraseology,  have  received  a  varying  connotation.  But  in 
general  the  first  factor,  the  tragic  guilt,"  has  been  traced 
to  an  origin  in  human  nature.  The  tragic  guilt  may  be, 
for  example,  a  wilful  disregard  for  recognized  moral  prin- 


ciples;  an  irresistible  impulse  or  predisposition  to  commit 
lawless  acts;  an  error  or  frailty  of  judgment.*  In  the 
Nineteenth  Century  tragic  guilt  has  been  extended  to  cover 
the  necessary  limitation  of  spiritual  interest  by  reason  of 
which  the  individual  gives  his  allegiance  to  unworthy  ends, 
or  to  one  interest  exclusively ;  for  in  the  mere  fact  that  the 
human  being  is  finite  there  is  a  limitation  from  which  no 
one  is  free.  In  any  event,  whatever  constitutes  the  tragic 
guilt  is  a  source  of  suffering  and  of  conflict  between  the 
actual  and  the  ideal;  between  the  transitory  and  the  per- 
manent; between  false  pretensions  to  power  and  its  actual 
possession;  between  pretended  immunity  from  the  neces- 
sity of  destiny  and  actual  subjection  to  it.  Herein,  as 
Schelling  pointed  out,  everyone  is  guilty;  though  one  may 
be  without  true,  or  ethical,  guilt.' 

The  second  factor,  the  reversal  of  fortune,  is  the 
change  in  the  status  of  the  individual  due  to  his  conflict 
with  the  higher  powers  of  the  universe.'  But  the  re- 
versal itself  may  be  hypostatized  as  Fortune,  Fate,  Chance, 
or  Destiny ;  and  when  so  conceived  is  the  immediate  or 
efficient  cause  of  the  tragic  guilt  as  defined  above,  and  the 
cause  of  the  defeat  and  suffering.  The  third  factor,  the 
inevitableness  of  the  conditions  leading  to  the  catastrophe,' 
is  referred  for  its  origin  to  the  necessary  relations  of  the 
individual  to  the  world  as  a  whole;  or  to  the  relations  of 
the  immediate  world  of  actuality  to  the  moral  and  spiritual 
world. 

The  inevitableness  of  the  catastrophe,  as  Lessing  de- 
manded," may  be  a  strict  causal  development  from  the 
fault  or  tragic  guilt,  which,  because  it  is  a  violation  of 
the  immutable  Justice  of  the  world,  must  entail  some  pun- 
ishment or  reparation ;  even  though  to  preserve  the  moral 
harmony  of  the  universe,  the  punishment  may  be  out  of 
all  proportion  to  the  individual's  responsibility  for  his  act. 
That  Justice,  because  it  can  take  no  cognizance  of  the 
conditions  of  the  act,  can  make  no  exemptions.  The  in- 
evitable conditions  may  range  in  character  from  the  whole 
complex  of  circumstances  surrounding  every  common  act 


consciously  determined  on  to  those  compelled  by  causes  of 
which  we  are  ignorant  and  unconscious.  They  may  range 
from  the  results  of  retributive  justice,  and  legal  punish- 
ment for  torts  and  overt  acts  against  society,  to  the  sac- 
rifices demanded  by  the  impersonal  values  of  patriotism 
and  religion;  or,  even  to  the  resignation  of  the  individual 
will  demanded  by  the  pursuit  of  ideals  which  are  impos- 
sible of  realization.  Finally  the  inevitable  conditions  may 
lie  in  the  recognition  of  the  futility  of  striving  against  an 
irrational  world. 

Hence  it  has  happened  at  one  time  or  another  that 
one,  or  all,  of  these  factors  have  been  regarded  as  de- 
mands made  on  the  life  of  individuals  to  which  it  is  im- 
possible to  conform  and  yet  live.  Each  one  of  them  has 
been  subjected  to  a  two-fold  analysis  in  which: 

1.  One  of  the  factors  has  been  regarded  frankly 
as  an  irrational  demand,  incapable  of  explanation 
and  unknowable; 

2.  One  of  them  at  least  has  been  found  neces- 
sary, on  the  basis  of  some  inclusive  View  of  the  world 
as  a  whole,  to  explain  the  relations  of  the  individual 
to  the  universe:  particularly  that  relation  defined 
above  as  the  tragic  situation. 

In  this  respect,  then,  the  conceptions  of  tragedy  may  be 
regarded  as  attempts  to  rationalize  those  facts  of  exist- 
ence which  in  themselves  offer  no  satisfactory  explana- 
tion. For  if  tragic  guilt,  reversal  of  fortune,  or  inevitable 
conditions,  can  be  shown  to  be  necessary  characteristics 
of  the  universe,  they  may  to  that  degree  be  called  rational 
and  knowable.  In  other  words,  to  adopt  an  Aristotelian 
distinction,  whatever  follows  by  logical  analysis  from 
general  principles,  to  the  extent  that  it  is  a  deduction, 
may  be  regarded  as  more  knowable  in  itself. 

Criticism  of  the  attempts  to  rationalize  one  or  all  of 
these  factors  will  include  some  consideration  of  the  fol- 
lowing points: 

I.  The  theoretical  or  philosophical  basis  on  which 
the  critical  attitude  depends.     Here  there  falls  to  be  con- 

8 


sidered  the  relation  of  philosophy,  and  especially  the  prob- 
lem of  knowledge,  to: 

1.  Reflective  thought  about  art,  especially  dramatic 
art ; 

2.  Art  itself,  especially  tragic  art. 

II.  Three  things  concerning  the  various  conceptions 
of  tragedy: 

1.  The  concept  of  tragedy  is  usually  found  to  be 
consistent  with  some  larger,  more  inclusive  view  of  the 
universe,  in  which  that  concept  answers  to  some  specific 
demand  for  a  theory  of  suffering  and  defeat. 

2.  The  criticism  will  attempt  to  show  that  however 
satisfactorily  tragedy  may  be  conceived  or  defined  from 
the  point  of  view  of  some  specific  theory  about  the  uni- 
verse, nevertheless,  the  acceptance  of  the  definition  entails 
also  the  acceptance  of  something  in  that  definition  con- 
trary to  our  desire  or  experience.  Unless  we  can  accept 
in  its  essential  outlines  the  point  of  view  of  the  poet  or 
aesthetic  philosopher,  we  shall  not  be  able  to  accept  his 
attempt  to  make  some  useful  concept  out  of  the  "neces- 
sary limitation  of  spiritual  interest,"  "arbitrary  revolu- 
tion of  Fortune's  wheel,"  or  "the  highest  expression  of 
personality  in  suffering."  Here  are  ideas  at  which  we 
revolt;  for  to  admit  that  we  can  understand  and  accept 
them  may  require  too  complete  a  reorganization  of  all  our 
experience;  and,  consequently,  they  are  ideas  which  can- 
not be  accepted  as  true  descriptions  of  the  world  as  a 
whole.  We  may  detect  this  failure  to  rationalize  com- 
pletely the  whole  conception  of  tragedy  in  various  ways, 
but  especially  in  two,  as  follows: 

a.  The  tragic  poet  fails  to  convince  us  that  the 
catastrophe  was  necessary;  that  the  disaster  needed 
to  have  been  so  overwhelming.  The  inability  of  the 
poet  to  find  a  solution  of  the  difficulty  is  not  always 
obscurity  of  his  spiritual  vision;  but  often  subjection 
to  the  popular  or  reflective  views  of  his  age.  Hence, 
what  the  poet  portrays  for  us  is,  as  a  matter  of  in- 


terpreting  the  world,  referable  for  its  explanation  to 
the  peculiar  conditions  of  the  thought  of  his  time. 

b.  The  failure  in  the  same  way  of  the  aesthetic 
philosopher  is  due  to  the  fact  that  he  raises  the 
factors  of  the  tragic  situation  to  the  status  of  neces- 
sary elements  of  the  universe;  and  in  turn  refers 
them  for  explanation  to  the  principles  which,  he  ad- 
mits, are  for  us  unknowable  because  universal.  He 
may,  as  in  the  case  of  Schopenhauer  or  Bahnsen, 
adopt  a  mere  conceit  or  affectation  as  a  metaphysical 
principle  and  attempt  on  that  basis  to  explain  the 
notion  of  tragedy.* 

3.  Concerning  the  tragic,  it  must  be  shown,  thirdly, 
that  there  not  only  is,  but  also  must  be,  an  irrational  ele- 
ment present  in  the  conception,  in  the  sense  that  there 
is  a  factor  in  the  universe  unknowable  to  the  finite  human 
intellect.     This  point  likewise  involves  two  others: 

a.  Inasmuch  as  theories  about  art  are  supposed 
to  have  some  necessary  relation  to  the  philosophy 
from  which  they  arise,  or  to  the  prevalent  view  of 
the  world  at  the  time  to  which  they  are  pertinent, 
it  follows  that  the  irrational  element  in  the  concepts 
under  consideration  may  be  referred  to  that  phil- 
osophy for  its  ground  or  sufficient  reason. 

b.  In  particular,  the  irrational  element  will  be 
regarded  as  the  necessary  correlate,  in  the  conception 
of  tragedy,  of  an  unknowable  or  irrational  factor  in 
the  corresponding  theory  of  knowledge. 

III.  The  criticism  will  also  attempt  to  give  some 
evidence  from  the  poets  and  the  field  of  reflective  thought 
to  illustrate  the  foregoing  points.  Some  attempt  will  be 
made  to  show  that  idealistic  theory  about  tragedy  has  been 
especially  prone  to  make  of  it  something  distasteful  which 
in  reality  it  may  not  be, 

IV.  Finally,  there  will  be  some  consideration  of  the 
attempt  made  to  prove  tragedy  essentially  identical  with 

10 


comedy.  The  impossibility  of  their  identity  is  evident  if 
we  regard  two  opposing  theories  of  knowledge  as  dividing 
the  labor  of  explaining  the  universe. 

II. 

The  Relations  of  Reflective  Thought  to  Art. 

The  thesis  rests  in  the  first  instance  on  a  correlation 
of  philosophy  with  reflective  thought  about  art,  and  with 
art  itself.  Philosophy  in  general,  it  may  be  presumed,  is 
identical  with  reflective  thought,  and  especially  with  what 
Aristotle  called  the  whole  of  disinterested  knowledge.  For 
the  purposes  of  the  present  study,  however,  philosophy 
will  generally  be  deemed  equivalent  to  the  theory  of 
knowledge  and  the  inquiry  into  the  significance  of  the 
facts  discovered  by  the  special  departments  of  science  or 
experience.'" 

Some  of  the  possible  relations  of  truth  and  beauty 
are  especially  significant.  Beauty  in  literature,  or  art  in 
general,  is  known  to  us  in  the  first  instance  through  con- 
crete expression."  Its  immediate  cognition  is  perceptual. 
From  this  point  of  view  beauty  is  largely  a  matter  of 
construction  and  sentiment.  The  fact  that  beauty  can 
be  expressed  in  terms  of  perceptual  knowledge  may  be 
9therwise  stated :  Beauty  has  a  variable  content,  not  only 
In  point  of  subject  matter,  but  also  in  point  of  the  inter- 
pretation given  by  the  artist  to  his  material.  But  the 
beauty  of  a  thing  may  lie  not  only  in  its  content,  but  also 
in  the  correspondence  of  that  content  to  our  views  of  the 
universe.  That  is  beautiful  to  us  which  we  find  to  be  in 
accord  with  our  beliefs.  Unlike  custom  or  law,  beauty  is 
quite  largely  a  matter  of  the  individual.  A  work  of  art 
is  an  individual,  personal,  or  subjective  interpretation  of 
the  universe  for  the  purpose  of  making  clear  on  the  per- 
ceptual level  of  knowledge  what  the  ideal  of  life  is.  To 
deduce  from  any  specified  work  of  art  just  what  the 
artist  conceives  the  ideal   of  life  to  be  is  no  easy  task ; 

11 


for  it  is  largely  a  matter  of  interpretation  and  patching 
together  fragmentary  expressions. 

We  do  not  desire  to  make  of  the  artist  a  misguided 
philosopher;  nor  of  the  philosopher  an  unconscious  poet; 
nor  is  it  to  be  presumed  that  art  is  exhausted  by  a  purely 
inteilectualistic  interpretation.  But  it  should  not  be  for- 
gotten that  philosophy  may,  in  its  technical  fashion,  be 
an  expression  of  the  artistic  ideals  of  the  period  in  which 
it  arises."  On  the  other  hand,  if  beauty  is  in  any  sense 
a  sensuous  expression  of  those  concepts  entertained  as 
such  by  philosophy,  the  meaning  of  art  or  beauty  will  be 
ultimately  derivable  from  the  same  source  as  the  concepts 
of  reflective  thought.  If  conceptual  thought  has  this  re- 
lation to  the  world  of  perception,  it  would  follow  that  the 
significance  of  beauty  would  be  disposable  in  abstract 
statements  whereby  the  affinity  of  beauty  and  reflective 
thought  is  enunciated.  We  would  expect  to  find,  accord- 
ingly, that  the  reflective  thought  of  any  era  and  the  art 
which  is  contemporary  with  it,  reveal  to  us  the  same 
world. 

What  is  true  of  artists  in  general  is  true  in  some  de- 
gree of  dramatists.  They  are  not  philosophers ;  neverthe- 
less, could  they  be  self-conscious,  what  would  they  say  as 
to  their  views  of  the  world?  There  must  sometimes  be 
general  principles  at  the  background  of  thought  to  sug- 
gest the  basis  of  the  artist's  work,  apart  from  the  specific 
content  of  the  tragic,  or  other,  motive;  something  to  sug- 
gest, it  may  be,  what  is  the  infirmity  of  existence  of 
which  man  necessarily  partakes.  The  tragic  artist  may 
not  only  give  us  a  portrayal  of  the  tragedy,  but  also  a 
suggestion  of  the  principle  which  would  account  for  the 
occurrence  of  tragedy  in  human  life."  From  an  external 
source,  man  may  be  represented  as  subject  to  chance  or 
fate;  from  within,  as  subject  to  disintegrating  emotion 
or  passion."  Again,  certain  dramas  of  the  Renaissance 
and  of  the  Enlightenment  seem  to  rest  on  the  failure  of 
knowledge,  and  to  imply  that  the  finite  and  essentially 
fallible  nature  of  man  is  to  be  sought  in  the  intellectual, 

12 


rather  than  in  the  moral,  powers."     In  general,  ought  we 
not  to  find  recognition  of  such  principles  in  the  philosophy 
pertinent  to  the  time?    To  put  the  problem  the  other  way 
around :     In  any  epoch  of  thought  in  which  there  is  recog-     l        . 
nized,  for  example,  an  irrational  element  in  the  concept    Jjr    ' 
of  knowledge,   if  it  be   also  an   era  in  which   tragic   art   jj 
flourishes,   we  might  be  able  to  find  that  irrational  ele- / 
ment  recognized  in  dramatic  concepts.  / 

The  development  of  thought  does,  presumably,  show- 
some  such  relation :  namely,  that  typical  attitudes  of 
thought  to  the  problem  of  tragedy  are  in  reality  logical 
expressions  of  some  more  fundamental  questions,  like 
that  of  knowledge.  Some  such  problem  was  raised  by 
Ruskin:  whether  or  not  tragic  art  could  find  a  solution 
of  the  difficulties  confronting  man  by  reason  of  the 
menacing  aspect  of  destiny.  Is  art  able  to  do  what  the 
wise  man  of  the  ancients  had  attempted  in  his  specula- 
tion and  moral  theory,  /.  e.,  escape  the  world?  The  ques- 
tion is  that  of  the  vole  of  knowledge  in  the  vulgar  spec- 
tacle of  success  or  failure. 

Just  what  do  we  know,  then,  of  the  adequacy  of 
knowledge  for  the  ends  of  endeavor,  especially  of  the  ideal 
of  human  endeavor  as  it  is  embodied  in  dramatic  art? 
Is  there  something  in  the  contradictions  of  the  theory  of 
knowledge  to  suggest  the  possibility  of  self-realization,  or 
its  impossibility?  The  question  has  not  to  do  here  with 
the  occurrence  of  success  or  unsuccess  as  facts  of  human 
experience,  but  as  significant  for  the  whole  theory  of  the 
universe.  Speculation  on  this  point  has  not  followed  a 
single  path.  We  know,  for  example,  that  the  duplicity  of 
thought  has  served  as  a  scapegoat  for  many  a  sin.  The 
dubious  character  of  sensuous  knowledge,  when  it  pre- 
tended to  final  truth,  has  been  commended  to  us  from 
antiquity;"  and  similarly,  the  untrustworthy  character 
of  conceptual  knowledge  has  been  commended  to  us  from 
an  equally  venerable  past."  Another  historical  heritage 
is  the  ethical  value  of  knowledge  as  the  basis  of  virtue 
and  happiness,  equally  with  its  dubious  character  in  that 

13 


function.  The  value  of  knowledge  in  matters  of  conduct 
is  quite  likely  to  be  merely  negative.  That  is  to  say,  the 
insight  of  the  wise  man  of  old  is  that  by  which  he  avoids 
conflict  with  the  world  and  is  withdrawn  from  the  possi- 
bility of  happiness  and  misery  alike,  in  so  far  as  these 
depend  on  the  world  of  change.  '  The  wisdom  of  the  en- 
lightened man  is  a  discipline  of  the  emotions  and  pas- 
sions: this  is  what  it  means  to  follow  reason.  But  cer- 
tainly where  conduct  is  thought  to  be  subject  to  a  fortune 
obscure  to  knowledge,  one  would  hardly  expect  the  func- 
tion of  knowledge  to  be  more  than  negative.  The  ascrip- 
tion of  failure  or  success,  tragedy  or  comedy,  to  destiny 
or  chance,  may,  perhaps  must,  suffer  some  attempt  at 
rationalization  in  the  course  of  history;  and  it  may  turn 
out  that  fate,  fortune,  or  chance  are  but  hypostatized  un- 
knowable elements  in  a  theory  of  knowledge. 

It  is  part  of  the  purpose  of  this  essay  to  show  that 
there  is  in  the  more  important  or  better  known  concep- 
tions and  definitions  of  tragedy  such  an  unknowable  ele- 
ment, however  consistent  the  whole  definition  may  be  with 
some  allied  theory  of  the  universe.  The  following  para- 
graphs are  intended  to  show  how  the  unknowable  element 
enters  the  definition ;  and  to  show  how  speculation,  in 
attempting  to  rationalize  the  significance  of  suffering  by 
reference  to  an  unknowable  element,  apparently  makes 
matters  worse  than  the  facts  of  experience  and  the  prin- 
ciples of  knowledge  will  warrant.  The  attempt  to  define 
tragedy  as  a  very  plausible  and  necessary  event  contrib- 
utes to  that  concept  a  fearsomeness  and  dreadful  possi- 
bility for  human  destiny.  To  the  fact  of  tragedy  is  added 
an  awfulness  which  it  would  be  comforting  to  know  arises 
only  from  the  activity  of  speculation  and  not  from  the 
necessary  constitution  of  the  universe.  If  this  be  true, 
then  we  might  commit  to  medical  science  and  to  beneficent 
legislation  the  task  of  mitigating  the  facts  of  suffering 
which,  because  they  are  facts,  are  difficult  to  mitigate  or 
assuage  by  the  mere  assertion  of  their  illusory  character. 
The  horrible  things  which  speculation  has  made  out  of  the 

14 


facts  of  experience  are,  like  the  symptoms  of  disease, 
more  alarming  than  the  illness  itself.  It  would  be  a  serv- 
ice to  philosophy  to  show  that  the  deductions  concerning 
human  destiny  are  far  from  hitting  the  truth  of  the  mat- 
ter, and  that  they  cannot  be  expected  to;  since  these  de- 
ductions are  based  on  definite  assumptions  suggesting  the 
nature  and  direction  of  the  conclusions  drawn  from  them. 

Speculation  purports  to  give  us  a  report  of  an  un- 
known world  other  than  the  world  of  facts;  but  we  are 
continually  denouncing  speculation  as  a  false  spy.  We  like 
to  think  of  its  results  as  monstrous  when  they  contradict 
our  experience  or  involve  us  in  further  difficulties  of 
thought.  We  must  not  forget  that  there  is,  after  all,  a 
rational  value  to  that  knowledge  which  enables  us  to 
attain  our  ends  even  against  obstacles;  for  there  is  pres- 
ent to  consciousness,  whether  the  philosophical  or  the 
popular,  the  fact  of  experience  that  man  may  either  bend  \ 
the  world  to  his  purposes  or  be  defeated.  This,  then,  is  -' 
the  possibility  of  comedy:  that  the  world  is  subject  to 
laws  knowable  as  such,  and  in  conformity  with  which  man 
can  live  happily  realizing  all  legitimate  desires.  In  the 
realization  of  our  desires,  in  so  far  as  they  are  depend- 
ent on  our  cognitive  relation  to  the  world,  the  normal 
relations  of  knowledge  and  conduct  supply  us  with  the 
notion  that  some  things  are  possible  to  conduct;  but  that 
some  ideals  can  never  be  anything  more  than  ideals.  By 
their  very  nature,  some  ideals  are  outside  of  the  world 
of  actually  realizable  purposes  and  may,  therefore,  never 
be  actualized  in  so  conditional  a  sphere  as  this  of  time 
and  space,  of  sense  and  action.  Where  the  external  world 
is  adequate  to  supply  us  with  valid  knowledge,  or  suf- 
ficiently docile  to  be  bent  to  our  will  and  purpose,  there 
would  seem  to  be  no  question  of  tragedy  at  all.  At  any 
rate,  the  only  possible  denial  of  human  success  would  be 
the  failure  of  an  act  to  issue  in  normal  results — a  thing 
explicable  on  the  basis  of  chastened  and  corrected  knowl- 
edge. 


15 


But  it  seems  as  though  idealistic  speculation  must 
land  us  in  a  skeptical  position  with  respect  to  the  possi- 
bility of  realizing  human  purposes  here  and  now.  In  an 
idealistic  world  we  are  supposed  to  have  power  over  the 
issue  of  actions  by  the  power  of  thought  in  that  we  can 
interpiet  the  significance  of  action  and  its  results.  No 
doubt  there  is  always  some  gain  in  the  thought  which 
makes  suffering  less.  But  in  the  idealistic  picture  of  the 
universe,  the  unknowable  reach  of  infinity  makes  all  right; 
and  unless  we  are  willing  to  accept  this  picture,  we  shall 
be  at  a  loss  to  interpret  as  after  all  somehow  good,  the 
failure  of  an  action  to  issue  in  normal  results.  Not  even 
a  philosopher  can  shift  easily  and  immediately  to  that 
standpoint  when  face  to  face  with  failure.  When  the  re- 
sult of  an  act  is  either  too  much  or  too  little  for  one's 
purpose,  one  is  embarrassed  not  only  by  the  actual  fact, 
but  also  by  the  difficulties  of  thought  in  reducing  the 
results  of  experience  to  the  values  of  conceptual  thought.'* 

Idealistic  speculation  in  trying  to  make  some  useful 
concept  out  of  the  fact  of  suffering  has  precipitated  just 
those  difficulties  of  thought.  The  rationalization  of  that 
practical  joker,  brutal  fate,  has  usually  taken  one  of  two 
general  directions.  The  first  is  the  notion  of  poetic  jus- 
tice, assuming  an  ultimate  reality  whose  fundamental 
attribute  is  an  ethical  majesty  that  most  jealously  resents 
any  squint-eyed  doubt  of  its  justice.  If  this  is  roughly 
the  position  of  poetic  justice,  the  other  is  that  which  may 
be  called  transcendental  injustice.  That  is  to  say,  every 
finite  act,  even  the  most  virtuous,  is  fraught  with  direful 
possibilities  because  by  the  nature  of  the  universe  the 
finite  act  disturbs  the  balance  of  the  infinite :  it  brings 
discord  into  the  harmony  of  the  absolute.  The  sponsor 
of  a  finite  act  must  pay  a  penalty  for  so  being.  This 
may  be  called  justice  only  by  a  supreme  effort  of  the  will 
and  by  the  abandonment  of  the  most  ordinary  notions  of 
common  sense. 

The  old  notion  of  tragic  guilt  and  its  accompaniment 
of  poetic   justice  have   latterly   fallen   under   criticism    in 

16 


some  of  the  great  systems  of  aesthetics.'"  The  theory  has 
not  been  found  applicable  to  several  great  works  of  art; 
and  the  theory  has  not  always  been  in  harmony  with  the 
metaphysical  basis  of  aesthetic  speculation.  The  theory 
of  poetic  justice  as  applied  to  tragedy  has  sometimes  been 
called  the  theory  of  "adequate  guilt."  The  tragic  situa- 
tion for  that  theory  is  a  compound  of  elements,  moral  in 
their  essential  nature,  between  which  there  is  a  rigorous 
reciprocation.  Man's  relation  to  the  universe  is  that  of  a 
link  in  an  ethico-causal  series  wherein  the  occurrence  of 
a  particularly  human  event  is  adequately  evaluated  by 
reference  to  the  moral  considerations  preceding  and  fol- 
lowing the  act.  Behind  every  event  is  a  system  of  values 
to  explain  the  purposive  relations  of  man  and  the  world. 
In  such  a  world  the  tragic  guilt  or  fault  must  be  morally 
reprehensible,  and  the  catastrophe  must  be  commensurable 
with  the  guilt.  The  result  of  the  tragedy  for  the  aesthetic 
judgment  must  conform  to,  but  do  no  more  than  confirm, 
the  moral  justice  of  the  universe.  The  theory  is  retribu- 
tive in  the  sense  that  Justice  holds  an  even  balance;  for 
if  it  were  otherwise,  we  could  not  assume  that  our  uni- 
verse were  governed  by  a  benevolent  moral  power;  nor 
would  our  universe,  from  the  human  point  of  View,  be  a 
rational  and  consistent  whole. 

It  should  not  be  assumed  that  the  theory  of  poetic 
justice  has  always  been  dominant  in  either  the  popular 
or  the  reflective  consciousness.  It  has  not  always  been 
dominant  either  in  life  or  in  art;  and  the  abandonment 
of  the  theory  is  not  distinctively  modem.  Perhaps  the 
first  theory  logically  divergent  is  the  Aristotelian,  or 
what  has  sometimes  been  called  the  theory  of  inadequate 
guilt.  This  theory  is  based  on  a  view  of  beauty  which 
does  not  include  specifically  moral  situations  as  part  of  its 
field.  As  Aristotle  indicated,  the  spectacle  of  a  bad  man 
receiving  his  just  deserts,  or  a  good  man  raised  to  pre- 
eminent fortune  and  happiness,  though  they  may  satisfy 
our  moral  predilections,  do  not  afford  the  emotional  relief 
of  melodramatic  horror  demanded  by  the  audience  and  so 

17 


completely  afforded  by  the  favorite  Oedipus  Rex.  What 
Aristotle  designed  as  a  practical  guide  for  the  dramatist 
has  been  taken  over  into  aesthetic  theory  and  has  lent 
itself  with  facile  adaptability  to  both  fact  and  theory.  It 
is  a  fact  that  many  persons  suffer  in  a  way  impossible  to 
equate  with  their  known  actions  and  motives;  they  are 
miserable  for  no  assignable  cause,  except  that  they  are 
subject  to  some  excusable  error,  frailty,  or  defect  of  judg- 
ment. The  catastrophe,  when  this  theory  is  applied  to  the 
drama,  must  have  a  strict  causal  development  from  the 
fault  as  the  dramatic  motive ;  and  even  though  it  is  a  con- 
scious fault,  the  catastrophe  must  be  compelled  by  in- 
evitable conditions. 

Whether  there  are  or  are  not  such  conditions  is  not 
part  of  the  problem;  for  it  is  at  least  a  fact  that  man 
has  at  times  recognized  certain  conditions  as  inevitable. 
Where  the  individual  assumes  such  conditions,  we  have 
the  situation  from  which  is  developed  the  tragedy  of 
moral  valor.  Here  the  necessary  condition  is  the  perform- 
ance of  a  difficult  duty  knowing  that  its  performance  leads 
to  destruction.  This  is  the  situation  of  the  sen-ants  of 
Hertha  when  the  necessary  ministrations  on  the  goddess 
entail  a  penalty  of  death.  The  favorite  examples  are 
Antigone  and  Max  Piccolomini.  It  is  perhaps  a  little 
unfortunate  that  we  have  no  typically  Roman  tragedy 
wherein,  as  Schlegel  pointed  out,  we  should  expect  to  find 
the  binding  force  of  religio  motivating  the  self  to  make 
a  complete  surrender  to  the  state  in  an  act  of  patriotic 
devotion.  There  is  a  modern  analogue  in  the  theory  of 
self-realization.  For  this  theory,  tragedy  is  the  limiting 
case  of  the  sacrifice  of  purely  personal  values  for  what 
is  over-personal.  Complete  sacrifice  is  the  expression  of 
the  individual's  power  to  identify  himself  with  values 
which  are  impersonal  in  the  sense  that  no  one  can  attain 
them  and  remain  an  individual.  No  merely  self-preserva- 
tive act  is  competent  to  attain  such  ends ;  for  the  over- 
personal  is  of  such  a  kind  that  it  abstracts  from  the  in- 
strumental value  of  all  acts.'' 

18 


I 


Another  line  of  divergence  from  the  Aristotelian 
theory  has  taken  the  direction  of  a  reinterpretation  of  the 
reversal  of  fortune.  In  hypostatized  Fortune  has  been 
found  the  cause  of  the  inevitable  conditions  and  the  miser- 
able end  of  unfortunate  men.  This  theory  had  widest 
acceptance  in  the  Middle  Ages  and  the  Renaissance.  A 
second  line  of  divergence  from  Aristotle  is  found  in  the 
modern  theories  of  tragic  guilt  as  based  on  a  meta- 
physical theory.  There  are  two  chief  expressions  of  this 
idea: 

1.  The  necessary  limitation  of  the  finite  indi- 
vidual to  partial  moral  interests; 

2.  The  necessary  contradiction  in  the  inmost 
nature  of  the  universe  by  which  aspiration  is  im- 
possible. 

These  questions  receive  more  extended  treatment  here- 
after. But  the  outcome  of  this  speculation  shows  little 
tendency  to  regard  the  relation  of  the  individual  to  the 
world  as  other  than  ethical.  Though  the  contradictions  in 
ethical  faith  pass  with  slight  criticism,  the  philosophical 
implications  are  not  altogether  satisfactory.  The  regroup- 
ing of  the  old  aesthetic  material  under  the  influence  of 
the  Nineteenth  Century  idea  of  the  relation  of  the  indi- 
vidual to  the  universe  makes  his  position  intolerable  and 
impossible  by  allowing  him  no  reality  and  no  possibility 
of  finite  achievement.'' 

If  this  can  in  any  sense  be  regarded  as  an  unsuccess- 
ful outcome  to  speculation,  it  allows  us  to  point  out  that 
the  conception  of  tragedy  which  is  based  on  it  is  likewise 
unsuccessful.  The  outcome  is  unsuccessful  because  it  in- 
volves contradictions  which  are  the  result  of  speculation 
Itself;  because  they  are  contradictions  which  can  be  over- 
come only  by  recourse  to  some  higher  standpoint  to  which 
we,  as  finite  beings,  cannot  attain.  We  cannot  attain  that 
higher  standpoint  without  renunciation  of  one  of  the  con- 
flicting forces,  /.  e.,  ourselves.  For  so  long  as  thought 
discovers  that  our  world  is  only  apparently  real  and  con- 
sistent, it  will,  in  its  function  as  chastener  and  clarifier 

19 


of  the  human  spirit,  convince  us  of  a  diremption  between 
the  world  of  ideals  and  that  of  actuality.  It  will  con- 
vince us  that  our  ideals  have  no  reality  and  can  have 
none  because  this  is  the  wrong  kind  of  a  world  to  cause 
"our  valor  to  act  in  safety."  By  raising  the  whole  ques- 
tion of  the  adequacy  of  human  knowledge  for  the  ends 
of  human  endeavor  we  may  be  able  on  that  basis  to  point 
out  irrational  elements  in  various  conceptions  of  tragedy — 
elements  we  would  have  disposed  of.  In  that  spirit  we 
may  be  allowed  to  undertake  what  part  of  the  task  we 
may. 


III. 


The  Testimony  of  the  Poets. 

Poets  may  often  be  found  to  include  testimony  to  gen- 
eral views  of  the  world  and  of  the  ultimate  significance 
of  the  dramatic  facts  they  portray.  How  have  they  suc- 
ceeded in  convincing  us  that  the  world  is  as  they  have 
described  it?  The  answer  to  this  question  is  but  a  review 
of  a  portion  of  the  evidence  on  which  aesthetic  specula- 
tion rests;  the  other  portion  being,  of  course,  observation 
of  life  on  the  part  of  the  aesthetic  philosopher,  and  tech- 
nical philosophy  itself.  Practically  any  point  in  aesthetic 
speculation  may  be  illustrated  by  reference  to  a  work  of 
art.  The  danger  of  illustrating  theories  in  this  way  is 
that  of  interpretation.  What  the  critic  takes  to  be  the 
meaning  of  the  poet  may  not  be  what  the  poet  himself 
intended ;  and  the  scattered  expressions  of  the  poet's  own 
view  may  be  overlooked  or  ignored. 

All  those  elements  or  conditions  of  human  conduct 
which  we  could  wish  were  otherwise,  have  been  held  re- 
sponsible, at  one  time  or  another,  for  the  tragic  situation. 
The  poets  have  tried  to  make  tragedy  intelligible  by  refer- 
ence to  what  are,  for  most  people,  obvious  causes:  sin, 
impiety,  passion,  error,  and  conflict  of  opposing  wills. 
Sometimes  they  have  despaired  of  complete  and  satisfac- 

20 


tory  explanation,  and  have  fallen  back  frankly  on  an  un- 
intelligible power  having  the  mastery  of  man's  will  and 
casting  defiance  to  his  reason.  What  else  can  be  the 
"divine  enmity,"  Nemesis  pursuing  the  prosperous  man, 
or  the  indiscriminate  strokes  of  Fortune? 

The  dangers  of  interpretation  and  the  contradictory 
results  to  which  it  leads  may  be  illustrated  by  reference 
to  the  critical  estimate  of  Ruskin,"  when  he  points  out: 

"The  adversary  chiefly  contemplated  by  the 
(Greek)  tragedians  is  Fate,  or  predestinate  misfor- 
tune, and  that  under  three  principal  forms:  A. 
Blindness  or  ignorance  not  in  itself  guilty,  but  in- 
cluding acts  which  would  otherwise  have  been  guilty; 
and  leading  no  less  than  guilt  to  destruction.  B. 
Visitation  on  one  person  of  the  sin  of  another. 
C.  Repression  by  brutal  or  tyrannous  strength  of  a 
beneficent  will." 

But  by  comparison  with  other  views  we  see  that  what  is 
meant  by  tragedy  is  very  largely  a  matter  of  interpreting 
works  of  art  from  a  personal  point  of  view,  and  in  that 
matter  the  greatest  latitude  prevails.  At  one  extreme  is 
the  view  that  sees  in  Greek  tragedy  (especially)  the 
processes  of  irrational  destiny."  If  one  must  describe 
this  destiny,  a  near  analogy  is  the  diabolical  cunning  and 
jealousy  of  forces  which  are  in  themselves  impersonal, 
but  which  in  their  results  completely  disintegrate  man's 
most  reasonable  views  of  his  world.  At  the  other  extreme 
is  the  view  that  the  Greek  consciousness  was  able  to  sur- 
mount all  contradictions  between  man  and  the  world,  or 
between  men  and  the  gods.  Consciousness  succeeds  in 
so  doing  by  the  doctrine  that  the  intelligible  forces  of  the 
world  and  the  unintelligible  decrees  of  the  gods  have  the 
same  righteousness  for  their  end.  But  if  we  abstract 
from  all  those  motives  on  which,  we  flatter  ourselves,  the 
failure  of  purposes  is  self-explanatory,  there  is  still  left 
to  be  explained  what  we  mean  by  the  divine  malignity;  in 

21 


a   word,   what   we   mean    by   Fate,   Chance,    Fortune,    or 
Destiny." 

The  examples  of  Greek  tragedy  permit  us  to  infer 
some  such  things  as  follows:  There  are  mysteries  in 
human  life,  for  man  becomes  in  the  end  what  he  would 
not  be  even  in  intention;  and  the  result  of  his  action  is 
precisely  that  against  which  he  would  have  forearmed 
himself.  Though  there  may  be  in  some  cases  ultimate 
reconciliation,  whatever  that  may  meanr'  though  there 
may  be  a  way  out  of  the  difficulty  from  which  it  would 
appear  that  the  supreme  powers  are  beneficent;"  yet 
there  is  no  answer  to  the  question  why  the  gods  act  thus 
and  not  otherwise.  The  life  of  man  is  often  one  of 
misery — not  necessarily  one  of  penury — but  of  conflict 
with  abuses  of  power,  wicked  policy  and  evil  deeds,  or 
revenge.''  Though  it  be  a  fact  that  individual  destiny 
is  one  of  misery  there  is  no  intelligible  answer  why  it 
is  so." 

There  are  times  when  the  whole  spiritual  fabric  dis- 
solves :  namely,  when  human  destiny  is  ruin.  If  the  ob- 
jective organization  of  the  world  breaks  up,  it  is  equally 
true  that  there  are  monstrous  things  in  the  spirit  of  man 
himself.'"  There  is  something  capricious  in  the  external 
order  of  events  when  human  endeavor  has  to  do  with 
them;  and  there  is  as  well  a  lawlessness  in  human  pas- 
sions. In  the  most  laudable  zeal  there  is  something  irra- 
tional and  unnatural  by  reason  of  its  very  intensity."  If 
it  be  a  fact  that  no  devotion  to  a  specific  principle  can 
be  inherently  worthy,  that  no  dominant  emotion  can  be 
safely  tolerated;  yet,  why  should  it  be  so?  How  can  we 
conceive  the  universe  to  make  these  facts  intelligible, 
since  to  do  so  seems  to  demand  that  all  that  touches  the 
person  most  closely  must  be  put  aside?  Is  this  merely  a 
question  of  the  clarity  of  artistic  vision  and  can  the  hero 
be  saved  at  will,  or  must  he  go  down  in  the  fight?  If 
the  fault  lies  deeper  than  the  poet's  view  of  the  world, 
then  it  may  be  that  tragedy  implies  a  view  of  the  world 
in    which    there    is    no    guaranty    that   the    conflicts    are 

22 


^ 


solvable;  and  no  surety  that  human  knowledge  is  com- 
petent to  explain  the  nature  of  such  a  world.  That  there 
is  a  question  here  is  evidence  that  the  prophecy  of  the 
regeneration  of  mankind  by  the  liberation  of  Prometheus 
has  its  antithesis  in  the  inevitable  destiny  of  Sophoclean 
tragedy. 

Ruskin  finds  a  wide  difference  between  the  classical 
and  the  modern  conceptions  of  tragedy  in  the  ability  of 
the  poet  to  find  a  solution  of  the  difficulty  that  is  at  once 
artistically  satisfactory  and  inoffensive  to  the  belief  of  the 
spectator  in  an  orderly  world.  In  modern  tragedy,  by 
which  Ruskin  means  Shakespeare,  there  is  no  clear  vision 
of  a  way  out  that  does  not  involve  the  spectator  in  serious 
diflficulties  of  thought.  To  the  modern  poet  the  sense  of 
defeat  is  complete;  and  in  the  absence  of  any  dom- 
inating power  to  which  a  rational  purpose  can  be  ascribed, 
there  is  nothing  left  but  to  embrace  enthusiastically  the 
immolation  of  the  individual  as  a  sacrifice  to  a  universal 
moral  law.     Ruskin  says:" 

"The  ruling  purpose  of  Greek  poetry  is  the  as- 
sertion of  victorj^  by  heroism  over  fate,  sin  and 
death.  *  *  *  Shakespeare  recognizes  for  deliver- 
ance no  gods  nigh  at  hand;  and  that  by  petty 
chance — momentary  folly — by  broken  message — by 
fool's  tyranny — or  traitor's  snare,  the  strongest  and 
most  righteous  are  brought  to  ruin.  *  *  *  At  the 
close  of  a  Shakespearean  tragedy  nothing  remains 
but  dead  march  and  clothes  of  burial.  At  the  end 
of  Greek  tragedy  there  are  far  off  sounds  of  a  divine 
triumph,  and  a  glory  as  of  resurrection." 

If  a  judgment  of  this  kind  is  to  be  accepted  as  a  true 
generalization,  it  must  be  based  on  an  inductive  survey 
of  the  extant  body  of  dramatic  art;  but  the  obstacles  to 
a  final  judgment  are  naturally  those  that  meet  us  in  a 
matter  of  interpretation.  We  find  ourselves  confronted 
with  two  extremes.  Either  we  must  follow  our  own  no- 
tion of  what  constitutes  a  tragedy,  and  reject  those  which 

23 


do  not  conform  to  the  definition;  or  we  must  adopt  some 
definite  principles  of  Interpretation.  In  the  latter  case 
we  may  ask,  for  each  period  of  the  drama,  and  for  each 
example,  in  what  sense  there  is  destruction  and  in  what 
sense  there  is  salvation.  The  latter  is  the  method  here 
adopted;  and  our  conclusion  is  that  there  is  nothing  in 
the  formal  conditions  of  the  concept  of  tragedy  to  guar- 
antee the  continuance  of  life  under  the  specific  conditions 
of  just  this  or  that  purpose  with  which  one  has  identified 
what  is  most  essential  in  life,  one's  individuality.  Trag- 
edy means  that  there  is  no  way  out  of  the  difficulties  of 
existence  without  some  change;  and  that  change  is  violent 
and  implies  an  absolute  degree  of  change.  We  can  ask 
in  what  sense  the  sacrifice  of  the  finite  being  is  a  satis- 
factory solution  of  the  situation.  What  is  there  to  offer 
the  reflective  consciousness  as  compensation,  if  the  pur- 
poses with  which  we  enter  the  tangle  and  struggle  with 
insurmountable  difficulties,  are  not  only  lost  in  the  solu- 
tion, but  involve  the  being  and  personality  of  the  char- 
acter in  the  same  dissolution? 

If  as  Ruskin  says  there  are  far  off  sounds  as  of 
resurrection,  we  might  find  a  sense  in  which  this  is  true. 
One  might  find  that  the  Greek  poet  or  spectator,  with  all 
his  keen  sense  of  the  misfortune  of  life,  was  nevertheless 
enthusiastically  confirmed  in  his  belief  in  the  still-con- 
tinued goodness  of  the  gods  and  in  his  reluctance  to 
admit  that  the  catastrophe  he  has  just  witnessed  is  any- 
thing more  than  an  accident.  He  may  be  confirmed  in  his 
belief  that  there  is  a  rational  principle  at  work  in  the 
world  whose  purposes,  though  obscure,  are  yet  righteous ; 
and  that  when  they  victimize  a  man  it  is  for  some  pur- 
pose higher  than  we  can  conceive,  but  one  that  is  also 
ardently  to  be  desired.  The  testimony  of  some  modern 
dramas  on  this  point  may  or  may  not  bear  out  Ruskin's 
dictum,  depending  on  whether  or  not  we  are  able  to 
accept  the  fundamental  principles  which  underlie  it. 

Dramatic  conflict  in  modern  times  is  the  evidence  of 
the  reality  of  the  spiritual  life.     Knowledge  and  achieve- 

24 


ment  can  be  partial  only;  first,  because  they  are  specific; 
and  secondly,  because  nothing  specific  can  be  adequate  to 
express  the  reality  of  the  whole.  The  destruction  of 
everything  local,  the  falsity  of  all  particular  truths,  is  the 
earnest  of  the  reality  of  all  Truth. 

Modern  tragedy  has  often  in  view  the  conflict  be- 
tween some  new  ideal  of  society,  a  new  institution,  and 
the  old  ideas.  In  the  dramas  of  Ibsen  this  is  the  case. 
The  hero  is  sometimes  overcome  because  the  new  ideal  is 
not  sufficiently  purified  to  become  a  safe  guide,  and  hence 
cannot  replace  the  old;  or,  because  trust  in  the  old  haa 
not  decayed  so  far  that  a  new  ideal  may  be  entertained. 
If,  however,  the  drama  is  based  on  the  ideal  of  the  great 
man  or  leader  as  enunciated  by  Carlyle  or  Browning  the 
tragic  conclusion  is  shown  to  be  retroactive  on  the  con- 
servative position.  The  death  of  the  hero,  as  the  repre- 
sentative of  the  new  ideal,  comes  home  to  the  stronger 
and  conservative  power  as  the  loss  of  the  very  thing  for 
which  it  was  unconsciously  striving;  but  which  in  its 
ignorance  was  not  recognized  for  such.  The  death  of  the 
hero  is  the  defeat  of  the  conqueror.  The  individual,  even 
a  leader  of  men,  represents  only  a  partial  truth;  and  it 
will  continue  to  be  partial  as  long  as  it  is  identified  with 
an  individual  spirit.  The  death  of  the  specific  person 
liberates  the  new  ideal  from  the  limitations  of  a  finite 
consciousness.  The  ideal  embodied  in  any  habit  or  in- 
stitution, or  conceived  as  realizable  in  some  definite  way, 
or  as  a  truth  to  be  expressed  in  just  this  or  that  maxim, 
is  given  back  to  the  universe  to  take  its  place  in  the 
whole  life-history  of  creation;  and  only  in  that  process 
can  it  find  its  proper  worth  and  expression. 

If  the  defender  of  the  new  ideal  is  overcome  in  the  ^ 
conflict  with  traditions,  the  traged3^  must  lie  in  the  pov- 
erty of  man's  knowledge  to  interpret  the  needs  of  society ; 
or  the  inability  of  the  group  to  apprehend  its  own  well- 
being  except  as  identified  with  immediate  physical  needs. 
Modern  tragedy,  as  might  be  expected  from  the  prevalent 
view  of  the  dynamic  nature  of  truth,  exhibits  the  inade- 

25 


quacy  of  traditional  knowledge  on  the  one  hand,  and  on 
the  other  the  demand  for  new  truth.  The  modem  world 
is  convinced,  however,  that  the  truth  of  things  rests,  to  a 
large  extent,  on  personal  or  subjective  factors.  If  then 
the  individual  is  to  have  any  voice  in  shaping  and  deter- 
mining what  is  true,  the  utility  of  an  idea  for  the  time 
and  circumstances  should  not  bring  one  under  condemna- 
tion of  the  law.  If  the  sufficiency  of  the  old  ways  of 
thought  is  the  test  of  truth,  it  is  surely  a  terrible  thing 
to  see  an  individual  destroyed  for  the  sake  of  society.  To 
decide  that  one  idea  or  habit  is  true  and  another  is  not, 
is,  after  all,  an  a  priori  judgment;  and  to  pass  such  a 
judgment  implies  on  the  part  of  society  a  sense  for  truth 
which  is  not  only  not  given  to  the  individual,  but  also  one 
which  cannot  be  gained  by  him.  Whatever  this  sense 
may  be  called:  public  opinion,  or  social  mind;  it  is  not 
subject  to  the  will  of*  the  ordinary  mortal ;  and  it  is, 
therefore,  irrational  just  to  the  extent  of  its  aloofness 
from  the  sphere  of  our  personal  and  individual  knowl- 
edge. The  real  leader  who  can  shape  the  ideals  of  so- 
ciety is,  in  respect  of  his  knowledge,  more  than  mortal 
and  different  in  kind  from  the  rest  of  us. 

In  Browning's  Luria,  for  example,  we  have  the  spec- 
tacle of  a  people  struggling  to  the  completer  life  of  their 
leader;  but  they  defeat  their  own  prosperity  because  they 
lose  faith  in  his  integrity.  Luria  dies  as  an  individual  to 
live  as  the  universal,  the  ideal,  which  he  would  have  ob- 
tained for  the  Florentines."  The  destruction  of  the  indi- 
vidual is  so  common  in  modern  tragic  drama  that  we  are 
at  a  loss  how  to  place  such  a  thing  as  Ibsen's  Doll's  House, 
though  we  might  be  sure  there  is  no  solution  in  sight 
either  artistically  or  practically  satisfactory.  Here  we  see 
a  conflict  between  the  new  and  the  old  ideas  of  personal 
worth.  There  is  a  break-up  in  the  traditional  views,  as 
there  was  in  the  old  fashioned  home.  The  heroine  dies 
only  in  so  far  as  the  old  mode  of  life,  as  a  habit,  broke 
down.  We  fear,  however,  that  she  goes  forth  to  her  de- 
struction as  she  leaves  the  old  home,  because  society  has 

26 


nothing  to  put  in  its  place;  we  fear  to  trust  the  stability 
of  her  new  ideals  which,  if  they  were  really  vital,  would 
soon  secure  for  her  well-being  a  suitable  garb  as  the  habit 
of  respectability. 

The  inability  of  modern  tragic  art  to  secure  a  solu- 
tion of  the  difficulties,  as  suggested  by  Ruskin,  is  strictly 
in  accord  with  the  idea  mentioned  above  that  tragedy 
assures  us  of  the  reality  of  the  spiritual  in  some  of  its 
functions,  such  as  the  social  whole.  The  dramatic  artist 
is  face  to  face  with  a  two-fold  issue :  1,  the  inherent 
dislike  to  have  all  difficulties  solved  by  a  return  to  the  old 
and  traditional;  and  2,  the  skepticism  of  all  that  pretends 
to  be  more  than  temporary,  or  toward  all  that  assumes 
to  have  more  worth  than  finite  things  can  have.  Hence 
all  that  is  effete,  all  that  is  pretentious,  must  perish. 
Thereafter,  the  demands  of  beauty  are  quite  satisfied  with 
the  mere  enunciation  of  the  new  ideal ;  and  the  artist 
need  not  concern  himself  with  working  out  to  its  final 
results  the  ideal  he  has  championed.  The  fact  that  speV\ 
cific  truths,  no  less  than  claims  to  universal  truth,  are  \ 
denied  makes  imperative  the  progressive  working  out  of  \ 
all  truth.  This  is  what  may  be  called  the  reality  of  the  ' 
life-history.  It  is  the  spectacle  of  the  individual  sacri- 
ficing himself  for  the  sake  of  the  ultimately  true  in  order 
that  the  ideal  with  which  he  has  identified  himself  may 
contribute  its  share  to  the  working  out  of  the  truth  of 
the  universe.  Not  this,  nor  that,  truth;  not  this,  nor 
that,  belief  or  conceit,  is  ultimately  true;  but  there  is 
always  truth  being  accomplished.  As  we  are  beginning 
to  realize,  this  demands  that  one  take  up  his  cross  in  the 
cause  of  truth;  but  in  the  pursuit  of  life's  set  prize  there 
is  for  each  of  us  compromise,  self-sacrifice  and  defeat. 

When  we  stop  to  ask  in  what  sense  a  principle  of  in- 
terpretation yields  valid  results,  we  are  forced  to  take 
into  consideration  the  testimony  of  the  period  under  in- 
vestigation. It  may  be  that  the  sense  in  which  there  is 
or  is  not  a  way  out  of  the  difficulty  of  a  tragic  situation, 
is  itself  an  implication  of  fundamental  views  of  the  world. 

27 


These  views  are  things  which  change  from  epoch  to 
epoch;  and  their  implications  change.  With  this  as  a 
guiding  thread,  what  change,  if  any,  takes  place  in  such 
an  idea  as  that  of  the  "falls  of  princes"  when  traced 
through  typical  moments  of  thought?  Here  we  can  use 
the  ideas  of  the  tragic  poets  themselves,  of  philosophy, 
and  of  aesthetic  speculation.  The  starting  point  of  the 
problem  is  found  in  certain  dramas  of  the  Renaissance 
that  enunciate  the  question  quite  clearly:  namely,  Mar- 
lowe's Edward  II,  Shakespeare's  King  Richard  II,  and 
others  referred  to  in  turn. 


IV. 


The  Misfortunes  of  Great  Men. 

Certain  facts  in  the  consciousness  and  literature  of 
Elizabethan  England  have  been  pointed  out  as  indicating 
a  growing  sense  of  the  unreal."  There  is,  for  example, 
the  fame  of  the  great  pirates  holding  letters  of  marque 
from  the  crown;  they  have  as  their  counterparts  the 
picaresque  heroes  of  popular  story.  Within  gentle  society 
there  was  the  conceit  of  pastoralism ;  and  in  contrast  to 
it,  the  savage  deeds  of  actual  daily  existence — ^brawling, 
infamy,  and  sacrilege.  However  all  these  witness  to 
mental  qualities  out  of  the  ordinary,  there  is  one  more 
to  be  added  to  the  list:  man's  loss  of  conceit  with  his  own 
power  of  understanding.  As  Ruskin  pointed  out,  Eliza- 
bethan tragedy  usually  ends  in  doubt  and  criticism,  not 
only  of  the  world,  but  also  of  the  spirit.  The  early 
Renaissance  was  characterized  by  a  searching  criticism 
of  the  bases  of  knowledge,  of  the  reality  of  ideals,  of  the 
possibility  of  realizing  ends,  and  of  the  superiority  of 
the  individual  over  the  world.  We  can,  possibly,  find  a 
tragedy  of  intellectual  bankruptcy:  a  breaking  up  of 
knowledge  which  is  a  fulfillment  of  the  Middle  Ages.  The 
scholastic  philosophy  had  left  as  a  general  heritage  to 
mankind  certain  conceits  of  pure  intellect:  credo  ut  intel- 

28 


ligam,  and  iiniversalia  ante  res.  This  faith  which  is  con- 
stitutive of  knowledge  is  a  function  of  the  universe  not 
belonging  to  finite  reason.  It  is  not  a  mental  function 
at  all;  but  another  faculty  above  reason,  a  revelation 
which  at  first  hand  apprehends  the  truths  of  the  universe. 
The  eternal  truths  are  universalia  ante  res. 

Whatever  else  the  Renaissance  may  be,  it  is,  for 
philosophy,  a  criticism  of  the  conceits  of  nativism.  Those 
elements  of  life  like  dogma  and  custom  and  traditional 
truth,  which  have  risen  to  the  rank  of  universals,  are 
pretensions  and  conceits  only,  aspiring  to  the  constitutive 
validity  of  the  real  universal  ideas.  Nativism,  therefore, 
is  the  conceit  of  pure  intellect  and  it  is  against  this  pre- 
tension that  the  Renaissance  criticism  is  directed.  The 
thesis  of  Petrus  Ramus  was  an  expression  of  a  symptom 
of  the  Renaissance.  In  1536  he  defended  the  proposition: 
Quaecunque  ah  Aristotele  dicta  sunt,  commentida  sunt.*'' 
Bacon's  skeptical  clearing  of  the  ground  for  a  new  method 
of  knowledge  is  a  tacit  assault  on  the  mental  habits  of 
the  Sixteenth  Century.  When  Descartes  retired  to  his 
superheated,  airtight  room  for  meditation,  was  it  not  in 
default  of  scholastic  learning  to  guarantee  the  validity  of 
knowledge  ? 

So  also  Marlowe's  Faustus,  like  Petrus  Ramus,  passes 
in  review  the  traditional  knowledge  of  the  ^Middle  Ages: 
logic,  law,  physic,  divinity;  and  finds  them  all  equally  im- 
potent to  give  him  the  chiefe.st  desire  of  his  heart — con- 
trol of  the  world.  He  covets  for  a  time  the  occult  knowl- 
edge of  an  irrational  science,  the  arch-anomoly  of  an 
intellectualistic  age.  By  astrology,  the  last  stand  of  a 
conceited  intellect,  he  hopes  to  be  armed  against  vicissi- 
tude and  defeat.  There  go  by  the  board  also,  with  the 
traditional  bodies  of  knowledge,  some  of  the  peculiarly 
sacred  ideas  of  the  church,  unrealities  on  which  the  mind 
had  been  surfeited.  The  idea  of  God  and  all  the  sweet 
old  cant  of  the  church  are,  for  Faustus,  illusion.  Repent- 
ance and  prayer  are  ''fruits  of  lunacy  that  make  men 
foolish  that  do  trust  them  most.     *     *     *     Also  thinkest 

29 


thou  that  Faustus  is  so  fond  as  to  imagine  that  after  this 
life  there  is  any  pain?  Tush,  these  are  trifles  and  mere 
old  Wives'  tales."" 

Here  we  have  the  Renaissance  in  the  first  flush  of 
its  glorj^  with  its  criticism  of  ideas  supposed  to  be  the 
very  foundation  of  knowledge;  with  its  searching  of  the 
inner  aspects  of  life  without  reserve  or  shame.  The 
whole  conceit  of  transcendental  knowledge  falls  away  in 
balancing  the  values  traditionally  ascribed  to  the  realms 
of  grace  and  sin.  Man  is  unable  to  obtain  by  the  old 
theological  knowledge  what  he  is  promised  by  faith. 
Those  things,  salvation  and  blessedness,  which  faith  prom- 
ises, must  come  here  and  now  if  they  would  be  useful  to 
us.  Yet  the  task  men  set  for  themselves  of  rebuilding 
their  view  of  the  world  proved  too  ambitious  when  limited 
by  the  inadequate  mental  apparatus  bequeathed  them  by 
the  Middle  Ages.  Man  could  not  save  himself  by  means 
of  that  knowledge  alone.  Hence,  we  see  men  out  of  con- 
ceit with  intellect;  for  the  world  without  some  conceivable 
reason  for  being  is  as  useless  as  the  soul  of  a  Faustus 
without  knowledge. 

One  of  the  interesting  traditions  to  come  under  criti- 
cism was  that  of  the  divine  right  of  kings.  For  a  time 
men  could  rationalize  the  falls  of  princes.  Greatness,  for 
Boethius,  was  not  a  good  in  itself  and  might  be  expected, 
therefore,  to  bring  with  it  the  usual  accompaniment  of 
evil.  The  violation  of  any  one  of  the  pillars  of  kingship 
was  sufficient  cause  for  calamity  when  men  sought  for 
causes  to  protect  their  ideal  from  attack.''  It  was  a 
simple  matter  of  violating  the  law  of  God;  for  sin,  as  we 
know,  brought  punishment.  A  scapegoat  was  soon  found 
to  explain  why  it  was  that  the  great  ones  of  earth  have 
more  than  their  share  of  calamity.  For  the  church 
fathers,  the  ruler  was  the  vicar  of  God  and,  whether 
right  or  wrong,  His  representative.  The  character  of  the 
ruler,  according  to  another  idea,  was  suited  to  the  moral 
condition  of  the  people  over  whom  he  ruled — a  vicious 
application  of  the  principle   of  retributive  justice.      This 

30 


ideal  could  not  long  have  been  satisfactory.  Certainly 
there  are  expressed  ideas  which  indicate  questioning  of 
the  principle.  Suppose  a  king  abuses  his  power  or  pro- 
nounces inequitable  judgments.  If  virtue  is  the  goodness 
of  mind  which  is  productive  of  right  living  and  of  no 
evil,  and  yet  evil  overtakes  a  people,  then  we  have  the 
situation  covered  by  separating  the  concept  of  kingship 
from  the  king  as  a  person.  The  judgment  of  a  king  may 
be  erroneous;  but  no  doubt  can  assail  the  justice  of  the 
throne.  The  state  is  of  divine  origin;  but  rulers  cannot 
be  without  sin.  It  is  requisite,  then,  that  the  king  him- 
self take  the  first  step  in  Christian  virtue — obeying  the 
law. 

There  is  a  law  higher  than  royal  edicts  to  which  the 
king  is  subject;  and  his  relation  to  that  law  stamps  him 
as  true  prince  or  tyrant  hostile  to  his  people.  The  ideas 
of  John  of  Salisbury  are  typical  and  luminous.  There  is 
a  general  harmony  in  things  which,  if  observed,  would 
g'ive  to  each  thing  its  proper  nature  and  reward.  The 
preservation  of  a  just  proportion  in  matters  of  the  state 
is  governed  by  what  we  call  equity.  It  is  to  this  divine 
law  of  eternal  justice  that  the  prince  is  subject.  The 
distinction  between  prince  and  tyrant  turns  on  conform- 
ity to  this  law  whose  rule  is  equity.''  It  is  easy  to  see 
that  any  abuse  of  power  is  a  tyranny  which  cannot  help 
causing  disaster  simply  because  it  is  a  violation  of  divine 
'law.  This  is  an  intelligible  explanation  so  long  as  we 
consider  the  matter  in  a  political  or  ethical  way.  But 
this,  which  is  so  much  a  matter  of  course,  comes  later  to 
be  a  source  of  disaffection  and  a  criticism  of  Vicegerency. 
The  idea  that  the  king  is  God's  vicar  by  divine  appoint- 
ment finds  a  contradiction  in  the  sin  of  the  ruler  who  is 
without  conscience.'"  Though  divinity  reside  in  kingship, 
aptness  of  man  to  sin,  when  the  latter  can  no  longer  be 
condoned,  must  cast  suspicion  on  the  divinity. 

The  criticism  took  the  form :  Why  should  a  king  by 
divine  right  come  to  an  unhappy  end?"  Thus,  there  is  a 
speculative   problem,  apart  from   the   ethical,  the  answer 

31 


to  which  is  satisfactory  except  when  we  remember  that 
the  human  mind  may  be  incapable  of  knowing  the  decrees 
of  that  heavenly  equity.  It  is  just  here  that  the  two  sides 
of  the  problem  meet.  The  tradition  of  the  divine  right 
of  kings  has  little  content  in  fact  for  the  Renaissance ;  the 
formal  tradition  has  little  utility  in  the  idea  of  the  state 
as  a  constitutional  government.  No  one  can  know  the 
ultimate  laws  of  Justice;  no  one  can  answer  the  question 
why  the  king  by  divine  right  comes  to  an  unhappy  end 
without  denying  the  divinity  of  the  fallen  prince.  The 
popular  reflection  of  the  idea  we  find  in  the  dramas  of 
Elizabethan  times  embodying  the  question  of  the  king's 
unhappy  end :  for  example,  Marlowe's  Edward  II,  Shakes- 
peare's Richard  II,  and  King  John. 

There  is  something  baffling  to  the  understanding  in 
the  fall  of  a  mighty  king.  He  may  misrule;  but  the  idea 
that  greatness  is  in  itself  somehow  hateful  to  Fortune 
is  a  tradition  that  must  justify  its  claim  to  our  credence, 
or  be  discarded — especially  so  in  an  age  which  desired 
mastery  very  much  for  its  own  sake.  Therefore,  it  is 
not  simply  that  a  king  may  misrule  and  thus  something 
is  found  on  which  to  lay  the  blame;"  but  it  is  the  notion 
that  as  every  point  of  the  wheel  of  Fortune  comes  upper- 
most, so  it  must  immediately  descend  as  the  wheel  rolls 
on.*'  To  a  certain  extent,  indeed,  the  law  contemplated 
the  perversity  of  royal  whim;  since  the  old  civil  law,  hav- 
ing in  view  the  absolute  power  of  the  king,  regarded  the 
prince's  pleasure  as  having  the  force  of  law.''  But  the 
divinity  of  kings  lies  only  in  their  sovereignty,  i.  e.,  in 
those  attributes  which  they  have  and  which  subjects  have 
not.  The  king  is  an  essence  which,  having  more  at- 
tributes than  that  of  ordinary  men,  is  therefore  a  higher 
and  better  being — a  good  mediaeval  notion.  A  king  with- 
out a  kingdom  is  nothing;  and  the  stars  dare  be  as  un- 
kind to  a  king  as  to  a  peasant." 

If  we  consider  that  group  of  Elizabethan  tragedies 
which  is  concerned  with  the  doleful  falls  of  princes  we 
find  some  consciousness  of  the  irrational  residue  left  when 

32 


the  moral  demands  have  been  satisfied.  A  question  is  left 
after  retributive  justice  has  done  its  work.  Marlowe's 
Edward  II  is  a  king  who  presumes  upon  the  narrow 
margin  of  legality  accorded  the  king's  whim;  but  Ed- 
ward's perversity  is  pushed  to  an  extreme  not  contem- 
plated by  statesman  nor  tolerable  to  subject.  The  thought 
that  there  is  within  the  state  so  uncontrollable  a  factor 
as  a  king  cannot  be  tolerable  where  there  is  any  sense 
of  individual  worth.  There  can  be  a  community  of  inter- 
est where  the  king  identifies  his  interest  with  that  of  the 
state;  but  there  can  be  none  where  the  king  is  the  only 
real  individual  in  the  kingdom.  A  king  is  after  all  only 
a  specific  person — one  among  others;  kingship  is  only  one 
factor  in  the  whole  activity  of  the  state.  We  have  here 
the  philosophical  problem  of  how  one  among  others  may 
be  the  only  reality;  the  difference  being  that  this  problem 
arises  within  the  lines  of  governmental  polity.  That  in 
the  state,  e.  g.,  law,  which  has  more  reality  than  any  spe- 
cific thing  by  itself,  is  fundamental  to  the  existence  and 
continuance  of  even  a  king. 

Moral  consciousness,  as  far  as  it  is  grounded  on  the 
conception  of  law  as  fundamental,  is  perfectly  satisfied 
that  a  king  like  Edward  II  should  perish  for  his  non- 
comprehension  of  the  local  fitness  of  things,  to  say  noth- 
ing of  the  more  fundamental  but  more  vague  eternal  fit- 
ness. Moral  consciousness  finds  its  contradiction  in  the 
popular  consciousness  of  the  sympathetic  spectator  of  the 
drama.  ^  The  condemnation  of  the  king  is  sufficient  for 
morality;  but  the  complete  change  of  fortune  bringing 
with  it  the  horrible  abuse  of  power,  temporary  indeed, 
and  usurped  in  the  name  of  the  state  and  of  justice; 
and  the  inhuman  misery  of  the  king  in  his  fallen  state: 
all  these  bring  uppermost  in  mind  the  irrationality  of 
fortune  whose  compensation  is  not  payment  in  kind. 
"Contempt  is  transmuted  into  sympathetic  grief  that  any 
king  could  so  fall.'"'  It  is  interesting  to  find  a  curious 
confirmation  of  this  revulsion  of  feeling  against  fortune 
in  Daniel's  drama  Philotas,  in  which  the  chorus  "vulgarly 

33 


(according  to  their  affections,  carried  rather  with  com- 
passion on  great  men's  misfortunes  than  with  considera- 
tion of  the  cause)  frame  their  imaginations  by  that 
square,  and  censure  what  is  done,"*' 

In  Shakespeare's  King  Richard  II  the  old  dogma  of 
kingship  is  again  brought  into  question.  Gaunt  quite  dis- 
tinctly says  not  even  a  king  can  act  contrary  to  natural 
laws,  York,  though  a  member  of  the  king's  party,  implies 
that  because  the  institutions  of  the  state  are  the  outcome 
of  the  whole  life  of  the  people,  they  cannot  be  set  aside 
at  the  pleasure  of  the  ruler.  The  justice  of  Bolingbroke's 
claim  to  the  throne  rests  on  the  principle  that  a  king's 
allegiance,  like  that  of  any  subject,  is  first  of  all  to  the 
state  itself.  There  is  a  suggestion  as  to  the  true  nature 
and  end  of  the  state,  as  a  commercial  society,  in  King 
John,  The  conduct  of  this  prince  raises  the  question  how 
far  the  good  of  the  state  can  be  identified  with  a  king's 
caprice  raised  to  a  superlative  degree.  It  is  here  that  a 
people  filled  with  a  sense  of  power,  commercial  and  in- 
tellectual, can  give  the  laugh  to  a  king.  It  was  an  ironical 
laugh  at  the  predicament  into  which  John  had  fallen  by 
his  own  shortsighted  policy;  and  it  was,  moreover,  a  sit- 
uation like  that  of  Edward  II  or  Richard  II  in  which  the 
cumbersome  and  paradoxical  logic  of  the  church  had  no 
efficacy.  It  was  a  situation  which  gave  the  lie  that  quaint 
but  irrational  dictum:  "When  Fortune  means  to  men 
most  good,  she  looks  on  them  with  a  threatening  eye."" 

It  would  obviously  be  impossible  to  give  a  summary 
of  all  expressions  of  opinion  on  the  irrationality  of  for- 
tune. The  number  of  such  expressions  is  enormous  even 
within  a  limited  period.  Attention  is  here  directed  to  one 
aspect,  viz.,  Fortune's  waywardness  and  how  it  is  to  be 
overcome.  The  trend  of  thought  on  this  point  during  the 
Seventeenth  Century  may  be  indicated  in  the  following 
steps : 

1,  The  falls  of  princes  suggest  to  man's  emotional 
nature  the  whim  of  Fortune  rather  than  man's  responsi- 
bility for  his  own  disaster. 

34 


2.  The  irrationality  of  fortune,  when  abstracted 
from  the  circumstances  of  personal  character,  suggests  a 
world  ruled  by  undiscoverable  causes;  and  there  is  no 
equality  between  the  inconstancy  of  Fortune  and  the 
status  of  her  victims. 

3.  Since  the  only  semblance  of  justice  discoverable  in 
Fortune  is  her  proneness  to  wayward  action,  the  only 
hope  of  overcoming  her  is,  by  a  change  of  mental  attitude, 
to  overcome  the  outer  world  within  the  self. 

4.  Finally,  reflection  reaches  a  stage  where  reason 
is  able  to  override  not  only  the  emotion  which  makes  us 
fear  the  change  of  fortune;  but  also  to  condemn,  if  not 
to  stifle,  those  grosser  passions  to  which,  it  might  be  sup- 
posed. Fortune  is  especially  antipathetic. 

What  the  Enlightenment  had  achieved  by  the  end  of 
the  century  as  a  permanent  acquisition  is  ah-eady  pre- 
figured at  the  beginning  of  the  Seventeenth  Century. 
From  almost  any  one  of  numerous  expressions  in  such  a 
thing  as  Sackville's  Induction,  or  the  Complaint  of  Henry 
Duke  of  Buckingham,  we  may  start  toward  the  goal  set 
by  reason:  namely,  a  complete  rationalization  of  the 
world;  and  specifically,  the  emancipation  of  the  individual 
from  subjection  to  the  changes  of  fortune.  Henry  com- 
plains that  no  earthly  state  is  durable.  The  full  signifi- 
cance is  not  apprehended  till  one  places  his  trust  in  those 
things  usually  considered  of  most  worth — in  honors,  in 
kingly  authority.  In  such  high  places  there  is  to  be 
found  at  last  nothing  but  the  false  smile  of  Fortune. 
There  is  nothing  that  man  can  accomplish  by  wit  or  by 
guile  which  can  be  in  any  sense  permanent.  The  acquisi- 
tion of  life's  goods  is  subject  to  chance  even  from  the 
beginning;  and  once  having 

=^     *     -     "felt  the  wheel 

Of  slipper  fortune,  stay  it  maught  no  stowne. 

The  wheel  whirls  up,  but  straight  it  whirleth  down."" 
As  the  old  adage  teaches:  "All  things  return  to  their 
origin" ;  and  with  this  inheritance  from  oriental  antiquity, 
more  than  one  thoughtful  mind  has  been  obsessed. 

35 


It  is  difficult  to  tell  in  such  expressions  how  much  is 
mere  conceit:  how  much  is  sincere.  But  it  is  indeed  sig- 
nificant that  even  among  the  Elizabethans  were  some  who 
could  couple  the  idea  of  Fortune  with  a  solution  for  its 
mischances.  Nicholas  Breton  in  his  dialogue  between 
Wit  and  Will  finds  the  solution  in  that  person  in  whom 
"reason  rules  wit" ;  yet  therein  we  find  Will  voicing  the 
common  sentiment: 

"Believe  me,  sweet  Wit,  there  is  such  falling 
out  with  Fancy,  who  shifts  all  upon  Folly.  Such 
exclamation  upon  Folly,  who  brings  them  to  For- 
tune: such  cursing  and  banning  of  Fortune,  for  her 
froward  dealing:  in  gentle  helping  them  up  upon  her 
wheel,  and  then  sudden  dinging  them  down  (almost 
to  their  destruction),  that  if  there  be  a  Hell  in  this 
world,  there  is  the  place." 

Robert  Greene,  the  pamphleteer,  had  also  learned  his 
lesson  from  antiquity  to  good  purpose.  He  not  only  bor- 
rowed the  conception  of  fortune  as  defined  by  Epicurus; 
but  he  divined  as  well  the  remedy  for  her  humors.*'  He 
expressed  the  idea  that  the  remedy  for  fortune  lay  with- 
in the  self;  and  that  is  what  is  here  called  "overcoming 
the  outer  world  within  the  self."  The  idea  has  had  a 
venerable  history  which  may  be  recounted  for  its  own 
sake  and  not  simply  to  satisfy  an  historical  method. 


36 


V. 

Overcoming  the  Outer  World  Within  the  Self. 

1.      THE   IDEA   IN   THE   ANCIENT   WORLD. 

The  beginning  of  speculation  on  the  remedies  for  for- 
tune may,  perhaps,  be  found  in  Aristotle;  but  on  this 
point  the  same  latitude  of  interpretation  that  was  found 
in  the  case  of  the  tragic  poets  recurs.  The  range  of  the 
interpretation  lies  between  what  passes  for  the  complete 
rationalization  of  the  tragic  situation,  and  the  ironical 
destruction  of  the  guiltless  hero.""  We  have  in  the  fol- 
lowing statement  an  attempt  at  rationalization : ' " 

'The  tragic  idea  lies  both  in  the  fact  that  the 
hero  is  the  agent,  the  cause  of  his  own  ruin,  and  that 
the  disaster  is  not  simply  an  accident  befalling  an 
individual,  but  a  natural  consequence  of  truly  human 
actions;  the  hero's  fault  must  represent  an  error  of 
judgment,  the  insufficiency  of  the  human  mind  to 
cope  with  the  mysterious  complex  of  this  world." 

Here  we  have  the  statement  that  the  tragic  situation  is 
not  an  accident:  hence  somehow  it  is  rational;  but,  error 
is  a  universal  human  trait  in  a  mysterious  world.  In 
other  words,  we  may  be  able  to  point  out  the  fact  of 
tragedy;  but  we  cannot  equate  the  power  of  the  human 
mind  as  adequate  to  the  task  of  understanding  that  world. 
Mind  has  power  neither  to  correct  its  own  errors,  nor  to 
comprehend  the  purpose  of  the  universe.  (f 

It  may  be,  therefore,  as  Eucken  points  out,"  that 
the  problem  of  tragedy  does  not  lie  so  much  in  the  con- 
tradictions within  the  person,  as  in  his  conflicts  with  the 
world.  But  Aristotle  gives  expression  to  just  the  opposite 
idea."  If  misery  followed  as  a  consequence  of  non- 
virtuous  activity  we  would  have  the  ordinary  idea  of 
moral  retribution.      But  in  so  far  as  Aristotle  regards  the 

37 


J 


life  of  rational  contemplation  as  the  final  entelechy  of 
conduct,  happiness  does  not,  it  would  seem,  depend  on 
man's  relation  to  the  world  and  its  mischances.  His 
happiness  does  depend  on  the  degree  to  which  he  has  be- 
come independent  of  all  that  is  extraneous,  or  rather 
indifferent,  to  his  true  life;''  for  in  fact,  luck  or  chance 
cannot  materially  affect  either  his  happiness  or  his  misery. 
There  are,  however,  difficulties  in  the  attainment  of  the 
complete  life  of  virtue  which  may  well  enough  destroy  a 
man's  happiness.  A  man  needs  external  resources  for 
activity  in  accordance  with  virtue,  though  he  need  not 
be  lavishly  provided  with  them.  He  needs  moderate 
wealth  and  a  measure  of  external  prosperity:  "for  his 
nature  is  not  sufficient  of  itself  for  speculation ;  it  needs 
bodily  health,  food,  and  care  of  every  kind."  He  needs 
leisure.  But  a  greater  difficulty  lies  in  choosing  a  mean 
state,  for  which  accurate  judgment  is  requisite  to  sub- 
sume the  particular  case  under  the  right  rule.''  A  man 
who  is  not  completely  virtuous  has,  therefore,  an  element 
of  weakness,  fallibility  of  judgment,  or  incomplete  indif- 
ference to  the  world.  For  such  a  person  it  is  also  true 
that  the  world  has  an  element  of  caprice,  metaphysical  and 
incomprehensible,  reflecting  the  instability  of  the  person. 
For  chance  is  an  irreducible  element  from  which  the 
external  life  of  man  will  suffer,  and  from  which  he  may 
recover  only  with  difficulty.'" 

If  it  be  true  that  Greek  tragedy  represents  man's  in- 
,firmity  as  a  susceptibility  to  misfortune  and  unavoidable 
destiny,  there  is  at  least  a  wide  difference  between  the 
destruction  of  the  individual  as  an  undifferentiated  atom 
of  the  world  and  that  of  the  individual  as  the  most  highly 
organized  system  of  nature.  It  is  very  much  in  the 
former  manner  that  Greek  tragedy  recognizes  man  as 
subject  externally  to  fate  or  chance.  '  From  this  point  of 
view  there  is  a  near  approach  to  the  rationalization  of 
externality  as  the  unrecognized  lawfulness  of  the  world. 
Here  in  Greece  the  minds  of  men  are  steadily  advancing, 

38 


for  a  time  at  least,  toward  a  consistent  view  of  the  law- 
fulness of  nature.  Chance  and  fate  are  not  absolutely- 
irrational;  for  they  perform  functions  afterward  ascribed 
to  reason :  they  may  be  overcome  by  a  right  attitude  of 
mind;  or  they  may  be  but  temporary  aberrations  from 
the  normal  order.  Thus  in  Aeschylus,  "the  paradoxical 
changes  of  fortune  can  be  accepted  with  a  child-like  faith 
that  they  are  the  decrees  of  higher  but  still  beneficent 
powers."  When  the  outcome  is  in  accordance  with  the 
accepted  legend,  and  wrong  in  the  world  is  only  tem- 
porary; or  where  the  possibility  of  fortunate  issue,  though 
not  certain,  is  still  contingent,  then  the  artistic  taste  of 
neither  dramatist  nor  spectator  is  offended  by  the  ortho- 
dox solution.  "Evil  is  not  always  the  work  of  unquali- 
fiedly adverse  gods,  nor  of  an  illogical  and  hopelessly 
irrational  universe,"  but  sometimes  of  perverse  and  ill- 
minded  men.  These  Kreons,  whose  understanding  is  static 
with  their  strange  ideas,  form  an  irrational  element. 
Ultimately  without  doubt  the  universe  must  answer  for 
the  presence  of  such  men ;  but  the  fact  that  it  can  be 
quizzed  for  an  answer  has  not  yet  come  to  clear  con- 
sciousness. 

In  literature  the  gods  are  often  represented  as  taking 
the  place  of  reason.  The  will  of  the  gods  is  an  abstrac- 
tion for  the  necessary  connection  of  events.  Moreover, 
what  is  ascribable  to  chance  or  coincidence  may  be  re- 
garded as  the  work  of  a  god,  whether  the  incident  be 
lucky  or  unlucky,  and  it  thus  becomes  intelligible  to  a 
certain  type  of  mind.  When  the  free  action  of  reason  in 
causation  is  not  yet  recognized,  that  which  is  inexplicable 
on  the  basis  of  purposive  action,  clearly  belongs  to  what, 
for  the  time  being,  will  be  an  irrational  world ;  at  least 
to  a  world  other  than  that  of  sense.  When  what  is  other- 
wise inexplicable  is  brought  into  the  sphere  of  art,  it 
moves  as  the  result  of  unknown  causes  in  the  external 
world,  following  on  the  unpredictable  designs  of  a  superior 
will  and  reason.  The  gods  who  sway  all  things  have  a 
right  to  be  a  bit  unpredictable  and  arbitrary  as  the  basis 

39 


of  securing  reconciliation."  That,  of  course,  explains 
nothing,  for  it  explains  everything. 

The  two-fold  suggestion  is  that  Fate  is  not  only  a 
rigorous  system  working  against  the  plans  of  men ;  but 
also  that  it  is  the  artistic  representation  of  the  natural 
necessity  of  the  world  recognized  by  philosophy  under 
various  forms.  But  the  remedies  for  fate  and  misfortune 
suggested  by  the  development  of  thought  in  the  Hellenistic 
period  are  mainly  of  a  negative  character,  and  carry  with 
them  a  confession  of  helplessness  against  the  world's  ad- 
versity. Resignation  of  the  human  powers  to  chance  or 
fate,  and  practical  wisdom  with  its  maxims,  rest  upon 
negative  rather  than  upon  positive  values.  Although  man 
sought  for  release  from  superstition  about  the  gods,  and 
from  the  uncertainties  of  bodily  existence,  his  philo- 
sophical calm  was  purchased  at  great  expense  by  devo- 
tion to  impossible  ideals.  If  we  ask  what  causes  things 
to  happen,  and  we  answer:  it  was  fated  to  be  so,  or  it 
was  just  chance;  "the  sting  of  both  lies  in  the  denial  of 
human  endeavor."'"  What  man  has  lost  by  asking  the 
simple  question,  he  buys  back  at  tremendous  sacrifice  in 
the  shape  of  new  gods.'"  Stoic,  Epicurean,  and  Skeptic 
worship  at  the  same  shrine. 

The  defeat  of  chance  for  the  Stoic  lies  in  the  harmony 
of  the  self.  But  if  a  man  would  avoid  entanglements  and 
misfortune,  he  must  secure  his  inner  harmony  b^-  con- 
formity to  that  Nature  so  very  subject  to  law,  and  so 
very  fateful  in  its  results,  that  it  is  in  effect  governed  by 
a  necessity  which  is  beyond  scrutiny  for  man's  reason.  It 
is  in  that  respect  irrational,  and  it  has  the  consistency 
of  inconstancy.  The  formative  principle  is  indeed  de- 
scribed as  an  immanent  reason;  and  if  a  man  would  find 
happiness,  let  him  habituate  himself  to  the  necessity  and 
reason  which  he  finds  in  nature."'  The  aim  of  the  indi- 
vidual is,  must  be,  identical  with  that  of  the  universal 
reason.  This  is  secured  by  an  apotheosis  of  will;  so  that, 
whatever  happens,  I  would  not  have  it  otherwise.  Were 
it   to    happen    otherwise,    i.    e.,    in    accordance    with    my 

40 


momentary  desire,  my  world  would  have  been  irrational 
and  governed  by  chance.  The  reality  of  the  universal 
reason  is  embodied  in  the  polity  of  the  Roman  Empire 
whose  universal  purposes  hold  the  individual  man  in  sub- 
jection. The  sting  of  fate  indeed  deprives  man  of  action; 
but  the  Stoic,  by  the  resignation  of  his  individual  will, 
welcomes  both  fate  and  sting.  He  is  not  one  whit  the 
less  subject  to  vicissitude,  though  he  has  received  again 
his  right  to  act;  he  still  suffers  defeat,  but  not  at  the 
expense  of  his  spiritual  integrity. 

To  overcome  an  outer  world  over  which  in  fact  man 
has  no  control,  is  to  overcome  the  world  within  the  self. 
In  the  case  of  the  Epicurean  this  is  accomplished  by  the 
elevation  of  desire.  Chance  is  rife  in  the  world  of  Epi- 
curus: even  the  atoms  take  on  gratuitous  motion  in  their 
fall  through  the  void.  This  is  something  like  an  inde- 
pendence of  law;"'  though,  as  we  saw  above,  this  point 
was  open  to  another  interpretation.  The  Epicurean  seized 
on  this  aspect  of  irresponsible  action  in  the  external  world 
in  the  sense  that  the  world  is  equally  free  from  final 
causes  and  the  interference  of  the  deity."'  The  wise  man 
need  not  fear  the  internal  consequences  to  himself  of  this 
state  of  things.  The  opinions  of  the  masses,  who  do  fear 
it,  are  indeed  mainly  superstition ;  but  knowledge,  virtue, 
and  happiness  are  independent  of  change,  chance,  and  for- 
tune. The  "just"  man  directed  by  reason  is  impervious  to 
the  chance  of  fortune,  or  to  the  irrationality  of  change." 
Science  exists  solely  to  ennoble  us  by  banishing  our  fears 
on  matters  of  high  import :  namely,  the  fear  of  death,  of 
nature,  and  of  the  limitations  of  desire." 

There  is  nothing  mysterious  about  nature  when  she 
becomes  in  the  light  of  reason  nothing  more  than  what 
we  see  in  her.  Representations  and  beliefs  depend  for 
their  truth  on  perceptions.  Again  there  is  no  interfer- 
ence of  a  deity  to  which  an  arbitrary  fate  could  be  due; 
for  all  things  occur  by  mechanical  causes.  Hence  it  is 
superstition  that  is  irrational;'  to  it  is  due  the  apparent 
irrationality    of    the    external    world.      Suppose    disaster 

41 


should  overtake  a  man:  there  is  nothing  irrational  about 
that  fact,  for  it  is  explicable.  If  it  is  not  explicable  by 
cause  and  effect,  let  a  man  examine  his  maxims  of  con- 
duct for  ignorance  of  some  point  which  he  might  have 
avoided.  There  can  be  nothing  incomprehensible  about  a 
fact;  for,  as  a  fact,  it  is  as  we  perceive  it.  It  is  fear 
itself  that  is  irrational,  and  not  the  fearful  thing.  Fear  is 
something  in  the  heart:  something  indeed  that  canonic 
and  ethics  can  hardly  quiet.  But  if  logic  has  any  virtue 
and  cogency,  it  is  demonstrably  certain  that  fear,  e.  g.,  the 
fear  of  death,  is  no  concern  of  ours."' 

The  Skeptics  also  undertook  to  overcome  the  outer 
world  within  the  self.  From  the  instability  of  things 
and  the  relativity  of  perceptions,  they  argued  that  nothing 
possessed  any  quality  absolutely,  but  only  through  habit 
and  custom."'  Our  perceptions  are  neither  true  nor  false, 
since  real  things  are  inaccessible  to  us.  It  is  not  for  us 
to  pass  judgment  on  a  world  whose  nature  is  so  foreign 
to  human  necessities  of  truth;  and  a  matter  so  foreign 
to  human  concerns  as  truth  in  the  external  world  may 
be  banished  from  the  mind.  Nothing  befalling  from  with- 
out need  disturb  the  wise  man's  tranquility ;  for  he  will  be 
one  who  reserves  judgment  in  any  case.  If  then  we  have 
raised  ourselves  by  an  act  of  will  to  a  position  of  indiffer- 
ence on  all  matters  of  human  history,  disasters  individual 
or  collective,  both  they  and  the  nature  of  the  external 
world  will  be  incomprehensible  in  that  they  are  so  thor- 
oughly alien  to  man's  true  self.  No  longer  is  the  wise 
man  wise  by  wisdom;  but  by  avoiding  life;  it  is  this  end 
that  his  maxims  of  conduct  serve ;  and  to  doubt  his  inner 
security  is  tragedy. 

2.      THE  IDEA  IN   THE   MIDDLE  AGES. 

All  the  responsibility  for  overcoming  the  outer  world 
cannot  be  put  upon  the  self:  some  more  stable  basis  for 
the  harmony  of  the  individual  and  the  world  must  be 
found.  The  Middle  Ages  cast  the  responsibility  for  a 
rational  world  on  the  providence  of  Cod  and  the  ultimate 
righteousness  of  His  plans  for  man's  destiny.     Man  neces- 

42 


sarily  shares  in  this  responsibility  since  he  is  the  highest 
end  of  creation.  But  in  so  far  as  man  cannot  reconcile 
his  desire  for  freedom  with  the  plan  of  divine  grace  he 
is  himself  the  author  of  his  own  misfortune. 

It  is  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  any  one  view  correctly 
describes  the  Middle  Ages  in  their  entirety.  There  was 
great  variety  of  opinion  on  this  point:  The  gifts  of  For- 
tune are  not  moral  goods  and  cannot  be  expected  to  be 
other  than  calamitous."  Man  can  by  will  choose  the  ignoble 
and  for  that  choice  shall  suffer."  Man  is  by  nature  evil 
and  cannot  make  atonement  for  infinite  guilt  by  means 
of  his  finite  capacities.''  Yet  evil  and  misfortune  are 
useful  disciplines  in  manifesting  the  providence  of  God/' 
In  each  of  these  views  is  something  unexplained.  Perhaps 
for  purposes  of  illustration  the  views  of  Boethius  will 
suffice;  for  in  him  we  have  the  transition  from  antiquity 
to  the  distinctly  Christian  view:  the  conflict  between 
pagan  Fortune  and  Christian  Providence. 

The  most  patent  fact  of  "the  external  world,  for 
Boethius,  as  it  relates  to  man's  well-being,  is  the  fact  of 
change.  In  this  respect  change  of  fortune,  or  the  change- 
ableness  of  the  world,  means  change  in  personal  circum- 
stances. If  any  supreme  good  can  be  found :  if  happiness, 
for  example,  is  a  supreme  good ;  it  will  not  be  found  in 
aught  that  can  be  taken  from  us.  Happiness,  therefore, 
cannot  rest  on  Fortune  whose  nature  it  is  to  be  unstable; 
nor  can  any  good  be  found  in  the  gifts  of  Fortune  whose 
habit  it  is  to  withdraw  what  she  has  once  granted.  Her 
gift  heralds  its  own  withdrawal ;  and  as  her  only  con- 
stancy is  change,  good  fortune,  especially,  is  but  the 
presage  of  future  calamity.  It  is  characteristic  of  Fortune 
that  she  disposes  of  her  gifts  most  erratically  to  the  just 
and  the  unjust  alike.  But  if  powers  and  dignities,  For- 
tune's gifts,  were  intrinsically  good  they  would  never  fall 
to  the  lot  of  the  wicked  who  do  not  deserve  them.  We 
see  the  wicked  in  possession  of  such  gifts  more  especially 
because   it    is   a   law   of  the   universe   that    like    consorts 

43 


with  like.  It  should  not  surprise  us  then,  since  the  union 
of  opposites  is  repugnant  to  nature,  that  when  wicked 
men  should  so  generally  possess  the  best  gifts  at  the  dis- 
posal of  Fortune,  that  calamity  should  be  their  lot.  Kings 
are  par  excellence  the  bearers  of  power  and  dignity;  yet 
kings  have  as  their  lot  more  misery  than  felicity.  Power, 
being  too  weak  to  preserve  itself,  commonly  promises  a 
reversal  of  fortune.  What  is  glory  or  fame  compared  to 
eternity?  For  as  there  is  no  comparison  between  the  finite 
and  the  infinite,  so  there  is  nothing  desirable,  no  natural 
good  in  any  gift  of  Fortune;  and  it  is  just  the  indiscrim- 
inate strokes  of  Fortune  by  which  kingdoms  are  over- 
turned, that  tragedy  bewails." 

The  influence  of  this  idea  is  traceable  long  after.  It 
is  this  to  which  Chaucer  refers,  as  much  as  to  Aristotle, 
when  he  says  tragedy  is  the  story  of  the  misery  and 
wretched  end  of  one  fallen  from  high  degree  and  pros- 
perity." The  same  idea  we  find  in  Puttenham:  "Tragedy 
deals  with  the  doleful  falls  of  unfortunate  and  afflicted 
princes  for  the  purpose  of  reminding  men  of  the  mutabil- 
ity of  fortune  and  of  God's  just  punishment  of  a  vicious 
life."  The  irrational  element  is  here  too  fundamental 
for  a  superficial  ascription  of  the  falls  of  princes  to 
mere  sin  or  depravity.  The  problem  is  related  to  the 
wider  one  of  evil.  Where  the  created  world  is  by  nature 
unreal  and  imperfect,  and  man  by  nature  sunk  in  guilt, 
we  must  face  an  intolerable  contradiction  with  the  provi- 
dence of  God.'"  Even  where  thought  adhered  to  the  idea 
of  guilt  as  a  free  act,  there  was  an  unanswered  problem 
in  the  incompatibility  of  a  world  of  guilt  under  the  domi- 
nance of  omnipotent  goodness.  The  omnipotent  nature  of 
God's  goodness  is  not  incompatible  with  the  absorption 
of  a  finite  amount  of  evil ;  but  that  would  not  rationalize 
the  course  of  history  when,  as  we  see  later,  dramatic  art 
turned  a  questioning  eye  upon  that  very  problem  of  the 
falls  of  "unfortunate  and  aff'licted  princes."  Not  all  the 
responsibility  for  the  condition  of  the  outer  world  should 
fall  on  the   self;   but  the  tradition   of   fate   and    fortune 

44 


must  be  broken  down.  Here  the  burden  shifts  back  to 
nature  to  declare  herself  lawful  and  subject  to  reason. 

A  renaissance  is  a  challenge  to  tradition;  and  if  the 
Renaissance  is  found  to  be  a  warring  of  traditions,  it  is 
also  in  some  sense  an  emancipation  from  them.  The 
Renaissance  is  the  essentially  new  in  all  departments  of 
thought.  The  individual  in  the  state  is  subject,  as 
Machiavelli  saw,  to  untoward  chance  from  the  tyranny 
of  warlike  and  wicked  men.  Order  is  the  result  of  the 
absolute  power  of  a  ruler  to  whom,  as  Hobbes  also 
thought,  the  freedom  of  the  individual  is  transferred 
irrevocably  in  order  to  receive  it  back  as  freedom  from 
injustice.  On  the  other  hand  the  individual  suffers  unwar- 
rantably from  the  tyrant  whose  w'ill  is  fateful  and  of 
universal  scope  throughout  the  realm.  Here  the  citizen 
takes  his  stand  on  the  rights  flowing  from  that  law 
which  is  superior  to  king  and  subject  alike;  and  to  which 
all  positive  law  is  subordinate. 

In  the  sphere  of  knowledge,  the  antimony  of  certainty 
and  uncertainty  is  not  ultimately  prejudicial  to  the  indi- 
vidual. Human  knowledge,  for  Cusanus,  is  conjecture; 
and  in  fact  it  is  nothing  but  the  knowledge  of  our  ignor- 
ance. The  world  itself,  in  its  entirety,  is  an  articulate 
whole  wherein  the  quantitative  aspects  at  least  are  evi- 
dence of  reason.  Where  the  universe  is  a  system  of  regu- 
larly moved  particles  of  mass,  as  for  Galilei  and  Kepler, 
the  harmony  of  the  world  is  made  comprehensible  mathe- 
matically by  the  laws  of  occurrence  and  change.  Mathe- 
matics is  the  rational  factor;  and  the  lawfulness  of  the 
world  itself  is  its  rational  consistency.  It  is  a  consistency 
inherent  in  itself  and  not  one  imposed  on  it  from  without. 
Therefore,  knowledge  is  certain  so  far  as  it  results  from 
measurement  or  quantitative  ratios;  but  where  sense  and 
mathematics  go  not,  as  in  human  passions  and  ends,  there 
is  uncertainty. 

The  desire  to  rule  the  external  world  is  not  only  a 
demand  for  freedom  of  thought  which  the  enlightened 
man  claims  against  the \ Middle  Ages;  but  it  is  a  demand 

45 


for  a  clear  and  distinct  thought  claimed  from  the  external 
world,  if  that  world  be  truly  rational.  If  nothing  beyond 
reason  can  be  authoritative  or  true,  then  commit  all 
nature  to  scrutiny  in  the  dry  light  of  reason.  When 
nature  is  rational,  when  in  fact  she  is  reason,  and  only 
that  nature  is  rational  which  is  ordered,  formal,  and 
abstract;  then,  as  for  Berkeley,  nature  as  the  external 
world  is  not  her  own  existence  (is  not  self-subsistent) , 
but  depends  for  its  existence  on  an  act  of  judgment  as  of 
the  divine  mind.  Likewise  the  freedom  of  the  human 
spirit  depends  on  its  consistency  with  external  truths 
which  are  the  fundamental  judgments  of  an  orderly  world. 
In  so  far  as  conduct  may  be  said  to  be  an  action  in  the 
body  politic  (analogous  to  motion  or  change  in  the 
physical  world),  that  conduct  must  also  be  made  up  of 
rational  acts.  But  here  passion  is  a  disturbing  element; 
and  because  it  is  impulsive  and  irrational  it  is  responsible 
for  disorganized  situations  in  conduct.  In  another  sense, 
also,  impulsive  conduct  is  incapable  of  complete  and  true 
worth  or  of  supplying  us  with  valid  knowledge  of  the 
external  world.  Perhaps  this  is  why  the  dramatic  art 
of  the  Seventeenth  Century  scores  to  the  account  of  pas- 
sion so  much  tragic  failure;  and  therefore  finds  disaster 
not  so  terrible,  for  the  causes  of  that  failure  have  no  real 
part  in  the  structure  of  truth.  Again  as  in  the  Hellenistic 
period,  the  fact  of  disaster  should  have  no  real  effect  on 
the  mind  disciplined  by  reason.  It  was  at  this  point  that 
the  Renaissance  had  arrived  in  its  speculation  on  the 
problem  of  tragedy  as  a  fact  in  history;  and  that  gave 
occasion  for  popular  consciousness  to  regard  the  instabil- 
ity of  fortune  rather  than  the  immediate  causes  of  unhap- 
piness  and  failure. 


46 


3.      THE  SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY  AND  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT. 

We  saw  that  the  unhappiness  of  the  great  men  of 
history  suggested  the  irrationality  of  Fortune;  and  that 
the  means  of  defeating  her  lay  in  overcoming  the  outer 
world  within  the  self.  To  have  reached  this  moment  in 
the  analysis  of  the  problem  implies  that  further  steps  had 
been  taken  to  render  the  problem  somewhat  different 
from  that  with  which  the  start  had  been  made.  The 
problem  of  tragedy  is  no  longer  for  the  end  of  the 
Seventeenth  Century  what  it  had  been  for  the  beginning: 
no  longer  the  fall  of  great  men,  but  the  defeat  of  great 
minds.  This  implies  for  one  thing  that  unhappiness  is 
to  be  sought  in  the  irrationality  of  emotion  rather  than 
in  that  of  a  mystical  fortune.  The  "clothes  of  burial" 
are  prepared  for  the  soul  caught  in  its  own  mazes  of 
passion;  and  the  "glory  as  of  resurrection"  is  for  the 
rational  soul.  The  death  of  the  hero  is  but  the  occasion 
for  a  display  of  greatness  of  soul;  the  significance  of 
death  is  but  that  of  a  stage  death.  For  the  disciplined 
soul  there  is  in  fact  no  tragedy  at  all.  Let  us  see  what 
an  analysis  of  this  idea  will  reveal. 

The  Seventeenth  Century  had  partially  succeeded 
in  the  task  begun  by  the  Renaissance.  The  world  had 
come  to  be  a  rational  whole  in  which  superstition  and 
emotion  are  unreal.''  "Nature  is  a  machine  whose  trans- 
parent wheelwork  allows  of  no  magic  and  no  sorcery."" 
Emotion  is  now  an  irrational  element  and  cannot  be 
reckoned  with;  nor  can  intellect  and  prudence  brook 
compromise  with  it.  Dramatic  art  in  this  period  is  the 
drama  of  emotional  disintegration.  Ordinarily  the  emo- 
tional and  the  intellectual  have  equal  value  with  us, 
provided  each  keeps  to  its  proper  sphere.  But  in  the 
time  of  Racine  a  dramatic  conflict  could  hardly  have 
been  found  between  personal  emotion  and  world  reason, 
each  having  equal  right,  as  for  Hegel.  But  for  Corneille, 
or  Racine,  the  tragic  conflict  would  have  been  what  the 

47 


Seventeenth  Century  would  naturally  have  expected  from 
a  personality  undisciplined  by  reason.  This  epoch 
regarded  conduct  motivated  by  emotion  as  essentially 
misleading.  That  conduct  only  was  safe  which  flowed 
from    enlightened    self-interest    and    calculated    prudence. 

Even  before  the  death  of  Shakespeare  there  was  a 
popular  counterpart  of  the  philosophical  consciousness 
taking  the  form  of  a  disaffection  with  the  complexities  of 
life  that  follow  on  the  unrestrained,  unreflective,  self- 
assertive  act.  The  stage  had  instructed  popular  con- 
sciousness only  too  well  in  the  mysteries  of  emotion  and 
conduct.  They  have  in  fact  lost  their  mysteriousness ; 
for  disaster  is  now  to  be  traced  directly  to  its  source — 
passion.  The  loss  of  seriousness,  and  an  unwillingness 
to  wrestle  with  the  world  in  its  serious  aspects,  is  just 
the  feeling  that  life  at  its  worst  is  not  tragic  but  only 
pathetic;  that  things  might  have  been  otherwise  with  a 
little  more  self-control;  and  that  destructive  situations 
are  not  ineluctable.  It  is  not  only  possible,  but  incumbent, 
upon  the  Jacobean  and  Caroline  dramatists  to  resolve 
strained  situations  in  accordance  with  their  facile  char- 
acter. Tragedy  within  the  sphere  of  reason  is  impossible ; 
it  is  pushed  out  bej^ond  ordinary  concepts  and  made 
fictitious.'"  If  this  be  the  negative,  then  there  was  also 
a  positive  side  in  the  widening  range  of  reason  in  science 
and  philosophy,  carrying  with  it  not  only  a  sense  of  the 
futility  of  struggling  against  the  irrational,  but  also  a 
sense  of  the  calamitous  nature  of  passion  (their  generic 
term  for  all  emotional  motives).  There  was  also  the 
paradoxical  attempt  in  philosophy  to  bring  emotion  within 
the  intellectual  scheme  of  nature,  but  at  the  same  time 
to  relegate  it  to  the  umbral  margin  of  reason. 

The  philosophy  of  the  Seventeenth  Century  is  a 
history  of  this  idea;  and  within  philosophy  are  numerous 
expressions  of  a  definite  and  intense  consciousness  that 
not  only  virtue  but  safe  conduct  are  functions  of  knowl- 
edge; whereas  evil  and  adverse  destiny  are  functions  of 
emotion  in  its  paradoxical  position.     Descartes  points  out 

48 


that  "virtue  is  ordinarily  opposed  to  pleasures,  to  appe- 
tites, and  to  passions";  but  that  "the  light  of  reason 
affording  a  true  knowledge  of  the  good,  prevents  virtue 
from  becoming  false".""  In  the  development  of  Cartesian 
ideas  in  the  field  of  ethics,  Geulincx  makes  this  state- 
ment:'' 

"The  contempt  into  which  the  most  precious 
things  fall  among  men  when  they  think  them  too 
well  known,  is  especially  true  of  our  reason,  whose 
utterances  are  far  less  regarded  (by  the  ordinary 
man),  than  the  shows  of  sense  and  phantasy,  although 
these  have  their  seat  in  the  bodily  life,  radically 
foreign  to  the  soul,  and  they  can  only  darken  the 
knowledge  of  our  self  and  of  its  true  interests." 

In  Spinoza's  inspiring  view  of  man  and  his  relation 
to  the  universe,  it  is  man's  littleness  and  bondage,  his 
insignificance  in  the  scheme  of  things,  for  which  emotion 
is  accountable;  but  man's  freedom  and  greatness  lie  in 
understanding:  in  the  knowledge  and  love  of  God — that 
is  to  say:  of  Reason,  of  Nature.  Spinoza  says,  for 
example:*' 

"To  act  absolutely  in  obedience  to  virtue,  is  to 
act  ...  in  accordance  with  the  dictates  of 
reason  on  the  basis  of  seeking  what  is  useful  to 
oneself."  But,  "human  infirmity  in  moderating  or 
checking  the  emotions  I  name  bondage;  for  when  a 
man  is  a  prey  to  his  emotions,  he  is  not  his  own ' 
master,  but  lies  at  the  mercy  of  fortune;  so  much 
so,  that  he  is  often  compelled,  while  seeking  that 
which  is  better  for  him,  to  follow  that  which  is 
worse." 

Racine  and  Moliere  may  be  taken  as  representatives 
of  opposite  phases  of  the  drama  of  erroneous  and  dis- 
integrating   emotion.      The    undisciplined    personality    of 

49 


Racine's  tragedy  has  its  counterpart  in  the  onesided 
person  of  the  satiric  comedy.  Consider  Racine's  Phedre 
for  example.  Hippolytus  is  governed  throughout  by  the 
maxims  of  a  mind  seasoned  and  disciplined  by  reason. 
He  has  a  contempt  for  all  acts  unmotivated  by  a  good 
will.  In  every  situation  the  prudential  motives  are  of 
more  weight  than  the  emotional;  for  universal  laws, 
rather  than  feelings,  govern  the  conduct  of  a  man  who 
is  eminently  virtuous.'  Phaedra,  while  acknowledging 
that  duty  makes  imperative  demands  on  the  character, 
is  ungoverned  by  reason.  She  has  in  her  something 
blamable  which  no  person  governed  by  reason  would 
tolerate.  She  is  one,  disintegrated  on  the  emotional  side, 
to  whom  the  eternal  verities  are  as  if  they  were  not. 
One  so  oblivious  to  the  law  of  God,  or  reason  (the  two 
are  one),  is  flouting  the  face  of  a  just  governance  of  the 
universe. 

A  condign  punishment  is  found  for  this  disrupted 
integrity,  a  disruption  based  on  a  theory  of  knowledge. 
Yet  we  can  understand  that  in  the  eyes  of  Racine's 
auditors  she  does  not  suffer  unwarrantably — a  thing  con- 
trary to  the  spirit  of  the  age.'  We  see  the  significance 
of  Lessing's  remark  that  "it  is  a  horrible  conception  that 
there  is  a  person  who  is  unhappy  through  no  fault  of 
his  own  .  .  .  are  we  to  cherish  it,  we,  whom  reason 
and  religion  should  convince  that  it  is  no  less  blasphemous 
than  untrue?'"  It  is  also  clear  why  Lessing  calls  the 
drama  of  this  period  a  drama  of  wonder.  It  inculcates 
the  love  and  admiration  for  God's  goodness,  perhaps 
unconsciously  following  Spinoza's  tuition.  As  Leibniz 
remarks:  "The  love  of  God  demands  that  we  should 
acquiesce  in  all  that  He  has  done."  Greatness  of  soul 
will  overcome  all  obstacles  and  all  expression  of  pain. 
The  death  of  Hippolytus  is  thus  meant  as  a  triumph  over 
death.  He  perishes  before  the  desolating  sweep  of  pas- 
sion, it  is  true;  but  rather  as  a  moral  to  a  fable.  Despite 
change  of  fortune,  he  dies  7)i€7is  conscia  recti;  reconciled 
to  the  universe  by  reason  of  his  greatness  and  as  a  reward 

50 


for  his  rectitude.  The  purpose  of  the  universe  is  accom- 
plished even  though  the  good  man  perish,  for  the  sanctity 
in  which  he  died  was  but  the  triumph  of  reason  over 
emotion  and  of  life  on  that  sordid  level. 

This  drama  represents  well  the  thought  of  the 
Enlightenment,  dominated  by  the  philosopher  Leibniz, 
who  shows  that  it  is  unsafe  to  trust  sensuous  knowledge 
for  truth.  The  passions  and  emotions  are  not  ultimately 
valid  as  sources  of  knowledge.  The  universal  is  the 
rational.  All  that  perceptual  knowledge  can  offer,  all 
intuitions  of  pain,  pleasure,  and  desire,  are  blurred 
accounts  of  truth — not  clear  and  distinct  cognition. 
Since  perception  and  emotion  are  debased  forms  of  knowl- 
edge they  cannot  be  expected  to  guide  men  into  right 
ways.  Perhaps  then  we  may  say,  the  death  of  the  hero 
on  the  stage  is  the  renunciation  of  the  blurred,  for  clear 
and  universal,  knowledge.  It  is  such  clear  and  universal 
knowledge  as  we  usually  identify  with  law,  duty,  with 
the  sanction  of  truth.  Thus  in  affirming  the  validity 
of  reason  there  is  reconciliation  in  the  French  Classic 
drama.  Wisdom  makes  man  superior  to  the  complexities 
of  existence  by  withdrawing  him,  in  one  sense,  from 
them.  But  erroneous  judgments  of  conduct,  since  they 
arise  from  passion,  are  mere  conceits  and  irrational." 

Would  that  speculation  had  let  this  solution  alone! 
But  there  is  a  moment  in  the  idealistic  thought  of  the 
Nineteenth  Century  which  has  seized  on  this  problem 
and  worked  it  out  to  a  point  where  there  is  little  of 
rationality  left  in  it.  The  relation  of  the  personal  to  the 
ultimately  rational  has  been  set  forth  in  certain  idealistic 
systems  with  some  logical  success  and  cogency;  though  it 
must  be  confessed,  the  solution  is  ironical.  For  in 
demanding  that  man  renounce  all  that  is  opposed  to  a 
factitious  sphere  of  conduct,  idealistic  thought  has  done 
so  only  as  a  punishment  for  what  Calderon  called  the 
sin  of  existence."' 


51 


VI. 


The  Speculative  Outcome. 

The  idea  that  greatness  of  mind  can  overcome  the  deep- 
seated  dualisms  of  the  universe  reappears  in  the  thought  of 
the  Nineteenth  Century.  What  was  a  possible  idea  for  the 
Seventeenth  Century:  that  nature  is  a  system  obedient  to 
the  laws  of  reason,  has  received  a  twist  in  the  Nineteenth 
Century  by  which  the  individual  is  submerged  in  that  ver>' 
system  which  his  reason  has  constructed.  Yet  in  that  fact, 
that  man's  reason  has  constructed  the  system,  aesthetic 
speculation  finds  the  individual's  salvation.  The  "real"  in- 
dividual, that  is,  must  be  the  "universal." 

The  fact  of  tragedy  may  not  be  as  alarming  as  what 
speculation  may  make  of  it.  Some  men  fear  what  they  are 
well  able  to  bear,  as  Boethius  remarks ;  and  the  Stoics  were 
right  in  attempting  to  rid  man  of  vexations  arising  from 
superstition.  Man's  helplessness  before  destiny  or  chance 
is  a  pecularly  ancient  idea,  especially  in  tragedy;  but  it  is 
a  superstition  which  has  by  no  means  been  laid  in  modern 
times.  It  may  be  more  than  a  superstition ;  though  in  our 
attempts  to  rationalize  it  we  commonly  substitute  for  it 
equally  irreducible  ideas.  For  von  Hartmann  the  ancient 
tragedy  of  fate  was  but  the  first  step  in  that  of  unconquer- 
able character.' '  It  may  have  even  more  positive  value  for 
Schopenhauer:" 

(  "In  tragedy  the  terrible  side  of  life  is  presented  to  us, 

]  the  wail  of  humanity,  the  reign  of  chance  and  error,  the 

^  fall  of  the  just,  the  triumph  of  the  wicked;  thus  the 

\  aspect  of  the  world  that  directly  strives  against  our  will 

\  is  brought  before  our  eyes."  / 

But  it  is  undoubtedly  true  that  for  many  a  "tragedy 
is  always  the  same  thing  .  .  .  making  us  realize  the  help- 
lessness of  mankind  before  destiny.""    Perhaps  from  the  ex- 

52 


temal  point  of  \'iew  there  is  always  disaster  and  ruin,'  as 
a  consequence  of  the  conflict  of  good  and  evil  and  of  poetic 
judg-ment  on  guilt/' 

The  rejection  of  the  theory  of  poetic  justice  as  applying 
to  all  tragic  situations  has  led  to  an  attempt  to  define  the 
rather  hazy  concept  of  tragic  guilt  and  to  rationalize  it  as 
well.  The  popular  notion  of  tragic  guilt  is  a  misinterpreta- 
tion of  guilt  as  moral  culpability.  The  confusion  is  not  sur- 
prising in  view  of  the  rigorous  ethical  moments  through 
which  the  people  of  Western  Europe  have  passed.  To  throw 
the  responsibility  of  the  tragic  situation  on  the  individual 
implies  the  dominance  of  a  rigid  system  external  to  man. 
It  is  a  system  to  which  he  must  conforai,  not  because  he 
can,  but  because  he  ought.  Where  there  is  a  gi'eat  gulf  fixed 
between  realms  of  nature  and  grace,  it  would  seem  impos- 
sible that  there  should  be  any  moral  achievement.  Man 
should  have  a  faculty  by  means  of  which  he  could,  if  he  so 
chose,  avoid  at  least  those  entanglements  that  beset  the 
evil  will.  Then  an  inevitable  accounting  for  an  error  in  one's 
maxims  of  conduct  is  sure  to  follow  the  transgression. 
Satisfactory  as  such  a  result  might  be  for  the  lover  of  poetic 
justice,  it  disregards  some  of  the  merits  of  the  situation ;  and 
it  does  not  satisfy  the  speculative  elements  of  the  problem. 
The  dramatist  as  well  as  the  philosopher  may  perceive  the 
tragedy  to  lie  in  a  man's  veiw  inability  to  conform  to  an 
external  code  of  conduct.  It  may  be  that,  after  all,  just  as 
the  individual  is  not  responsible  for  the  tragic  situation,  so 
the  futility  of  a  struggle  with  necessary  and  universal  con- 
ditions is  unreasonable  just  because  man's  purposes  and 
knowledge  are  personal  and  subjective. 

The  extension  of  the  idea  of  tragic  guilt  to  include  the 
metaphysical  weakness  of  the  personal  has  reference  to  the 
reality  of  the  person  and  his  relation  to  the  universe.  The 
new  view  of  man  and  history  suggests  new  problems  pe- 
cularly  idealistic  or  evolutionary.  The  units  or  parts  of  any 
system  are  denied  crass  and  discrete  reality;  they  derive 
reality  by  their  dependence  on,  and  participation  in,  a  uni- 
versal.   The  permanence  of  a  specific  thing  in  a  certain  set  of 

53 


relations  is  not  a  matter  of  maintaining  a  thing  as  just  that 
thing;  but  rather  a  question  of  continuing  the  function 
which  the  unit  or  atom  had  temporarily  assumed.  The  inner 
movement  and  life  of  the  absolute  is  the  outer  movement 
and  death  of  the  parts."  The  burden  of  carrying  on  the  work 
of  the  universe  rests  on  the  parts ;  hence  the  necessary  ex- 
pansion of  the  latter  to  meet  new  demands  is  supposed  to 
be  a  usurpation  by  the  parts  of  the  function  of  the  whole. 
When  the  particular  becomes  too  much  or  too  exclusively  the 
individual,  as  the  Hegelians  say,  its  life  as  a  specific  thing 
is  already  of  the  past.  And  if  the  external  conflict  and  ruin 
is  the  result  of  a  struggle  of  right  against  right,  that  in 
itself  is  an  evil;"'  but  an  evil  of  an  entirely  different  order. 
Speculation  in  the  Nineteenth  Century  has  left  the 
individual  little  to  hope  for.  He  still  lives  in  a  universe  to 
be  sure;  and  he  is  part  and  parcel  of  it.  But  his  desire  to 
be  a  unique  individual  is  granted  only  with  heavy  penalties 
attached.  The  rationality  of  the  universe  as  a  whole  implies 
the  relative  existence  only,  of  each  of  the  parts.  The  world  is 
real  as  a  whole;  its  parts  are  only  phenomena.  Man  as  an 
individual  is  no  less  a  transgressor  against  the  divinity  of 
the  world  than  he  was  formerly  thought  to  be  a  sinner 
against  God's  law  by  Adam's  fall.  Man  is  indeed  freed  from 
the  charge  of  sin  by  reason  of  an  immanent  rationality  in 
the  world;  but  then  all  finite  desire  is  readily  perverted. 
If  a  man's  purpose  pretends  to  be  more  than  an  idle  wish, 
yet  even  that  wish  is  a  law  legislating  against  the  higher 
purposes  of  the  absolute,  and  from  that  the  guilt  of  con- 
flict results.  Precisely  those  things  which  make  person- 
ality worth  having:  hope  and  aspiration,  and  the  power 
to  reorganize  the  world  from  within,  are  just  the  things 
man  cannot  have  and  yet  live.  If  tragedy  is  a  fact  (and 
not  merely  an  artistic  vision) ,  this  is  the  explanation  we  are 
bound  to  give  it  on  the  basis  of  distinctly  Nineteenth  Cen- 
tury thought.  It  goes  without  saying  that  thinkers  have 
not  been  content  with  merely  this  story.  The  attack  on  the 
old  theorj'  of  tragic  guilt  as  identical  with  moral  guilt 
has  as  its  object  to  rationalize  those  situations  in  which 

54 


no  such  moral  guilt  could  be  imputed  to  the  characters; 
for  much  that  is  clear  to  the  eye  of  art  is  hidden  from 
the  moralist.'" 

The  fact  of  tragedy  aside,  the  spectacle  of  conflict  is 
of  fundamental  value  and  significance.  What  we  mean  by 
tragic  guilt  is  not  moral  reprehensibility,  but  any  source 
of  suflFering  where  the  "weight  of  the  tragic  fault  is  not 
commensurable  with  the  moral  transgression."""  What  re- 
sults is  simply  the  maintenance  of  the  moral  harmony  of 
the  universe."  Out  of  this  suffering  is  supposed  to  arise 
the  purest  expression  of  personality.  The  hero  must  will 
his  outer  defeat  as  the  highest  expression  of  abstract 
spirit,  though  it  need  not  be  the  best  expression  of  action 
or  success.""  The  philosophy  of  valuation  attempts  an 
interpretation  of  the  psychological  value  to  the  spectator 
of  the  metaphysical  guilt  of  the  hero." 

"Where  the  individual  goes  to  destruction  for  the 
worth  which  he  identifies  with  himself  *  *  *  ^j^g 
absolute  personal  worth  has  been  realized  even  if  the 
object  for  which  the  sacrifice  has  been  made  is  from 
the  personal  point  of  view  of  instrumental  judgment, 
not  considered  worth  the  sacrifice." 

But  this  theory  overlooks  what  the  earlier  speculation 
would  by  no  means  regard  as  a  merely  contingent  alter- 
native. The  devotion  of  the  hero  to  some  object  of  implied 
worth  may  be  an  act  of  will;  but  it  does  not  follow  that 
the  hero  as  shortsightedly  wills  his  own  destruction  with 
freedom  equal  to  that  with  which  he  first  wills  his  desire 
or  ideal.  What  is  described  as  conflict,  or  conflict  of 
opposing  wills,  has  as  a  consequence  the  necessary  surren- 
der only  to  the  stronger  reason,  to  that  which  is  more 
nearly  universally  true.  "The  voice  of  reason  in  the  actors 
is  dumb,"  but  there  is  "a  wise  providence  which  may  at 
the  last  lead  to  a  completely  contradictory,  but  satisfying, 
conclusion."""' 


55 


To  Hamann,  also,  this  conclusion  is  contradictory,  but 
neither  satisfactory  nor  just.     He  says:"" 

"We  speak  of  the  tragic  when  we  experience  in 
the  destruction  of  a  personal  value,  to  which  we  have 
ascribed  a  right  to  exist,  a  contradiction  to  our  eth- 
ical standard  of  what  should  be  and  a  destiny  unjustly 
prepared  for  us.  A  tragedy  is  the  portrayal  of  an 
especially  flagrant  case." 

Yet  the  conflict  may  be  between  right  and  right,  and'"' 

"that  which  is  humanly  the  weaker  is,  in  the  human 
sense,  crushed  and  ground  to  powder.  But  in  its  very 
defeat  it  has  found  victory  and  the  conqueror  himself 
bows  in  utter  abasement  before  the  divine  law  which 
he  has  obstinately  defied." 

One  may  grant  that  the  individual  should  learn  to 
know  his  place  and  that  he  should  not  defy  the  divine  will ; 
but  why  should  it  be  that  in  a  rational  world  the  absolute 
only  is  real,  and  all  expressions  of  the  absolute  are  unreal? 
Man  can  never  understand  a  world  in  which  the  absolute 
will  never  be  aught  but  a  thing-in-itself,  and  phenomena 
never  anything  at  all  in  themselves.  Man  desires  little 
here  below;  and  while  he  does  not  want  it  long,  it  must 
be  real  in  the  interim.  Perhaps  this  is  why  Hegel  and 
others  are  reported  as  dead  by  certain  thinkers;  but  that 
the  Hegelian  interpretation  should  have  lived  on  so  long 
in  many  critical  judgments  is  perhaps  just  the  fact  that 
we  love  the  morbid :  because  the  morbid  is  so  very  real 
and  commonplace! 

Thought  leads  in  this  direction  to  two  farther  steps 
beyond  which  it  may  not  be  possible  to  go.  The  meta- 
physical contingency  of  the  individual  and  of  all  that  is 
human  leads  to  a  necessary  "overstepping  of  the  due 
bounds  of  finiteness."" "  Human  aspiration  by  overstep- 
ping the  due  bounds  of  finiteness  disturbs  the  equilibrium 

56 


of  the  spiritual  world.  Secondly,  even  though  there  be 
no  such  disturbance  due  to  false  pretenders  to  worth  and 
reason,  there  is  a  metaphysical  diremption  in  the  basis  of 
the  universe  with  which  it  would  be  hopeless  for  man  to 
contend.  The  universe  is  so  hopelessly  irrational  at  bot- 
tom that  human  reason  must  accept  it  as  final.  Because 
the  suffering  of  an  innocent  person  is  utterly  monstrous, 
we  must  find  something  to  take  the  place  of  the  guilt 
which  would  make  the  fact  intelligible  to  our  habitual 
form  of  thought.  It  is  impossible  that  anyone  should  be  free 
from  guilt,""'  for  every  one  is  guilty  through  the  necessity 
of  destiny,'"  and  in  the  face  of  the  infinitely  spiritual  every 
aspiration  for  finite  greatness  must  disappear.""'  Guilt  and 
finitude  are  at  once  identified,  even  though  with  some  change 
of  meaning.  It  is,  to  repeat  a  hackneyed  platitude,  both  a 
misfortune  and  a  mystery  that  we  are  human.  We  prove 
our  personality  by  devotion  to  all  that  is  partial  and  local ; 
we  believe  in  all  the  half-truths:  for  what  else  is  there  to 
believe?  In  our  devotion  to  the  finite  we  find  tragedy;  in 
renunciation,  a  destruction  which  is  called  victory  and  suc- 
cess. Christianity  has  taught  self-sacrifice  in  an  endeavor 
to  gain  more  permanent  values  of  life;'"  and  the  lesson 
has  not  been  lost  in  theory.  In  a  world  where  all  is  rela- 
tive, our  fault  consists  in  mistaking  the  rationality  of  the 
finite,  which  is  merely  its  relativity,  for  an  ideal  rationality 
never  found  in  the  specific  thing.""  Our  guilt  is  that, 
since  we  can  pay  allegiance  to  but  one  motivating  force  at 
a  time,  we  forget  the  legitimate  claims  of  others."  "  We 
cannot  of  ourselves  "play  the  part  of  Providence"  as  Lotze 
points  out.  '"  By  this  he  means  that  we  are  incapable  of 
"laying  hold  of  the  coherent  system  of  the  world's  course 
as  a  formulative  and  guiding  principle." 

The  final  step  is  to  state  the  consequences  of  contra- 
diction. Not  only  is  the  individual  divided  against  itself," 
in  an  attempt  to  serve  two  masters,  one  finite  and  one 
infinite;  but,  as  with  Hegel,  the  sides  to  the  conflict  have 
equal  right.'"  At  the  same  time,  each  in  its  claim  to  right 
must  be  a  denial  of  the  same  right  in  the  other.     In  dra- 

57 


matic  action  we  watch  this  contradiction  leading  to  such 
results  that  a  resolution  of  the  difficulty  is  precluded,  and 
duplicity  made  necessary.  The  impossibility  of  reconcil- 
iation is  made  by  Bahnsen  the  peculiar  property  of  the 
"innermost  core  of  reality"  which  is  torn  asunder  and 
illogically  divided. ' ' ' 

The  challenge  for  a  rationalized  theory  of  tragedy 
has  called  forth  two  champions  of  especial  interest,  Hegel 
and  Solger.'"  Hegel  says  in  the  Aesthetik  (freely  trans- 
lated) :' 

"The  principle  of  dramatic  poesy,  in  which  we 
have  collision  of  purposes  and  characters,  and  in 
which  the  necessity  for  a  solution  of  such  a  conflict 
is  the  central  point,  can  only  be  the  relation  of  the 
individual  to  his  purposes  and  their  content.  *  *  * 
Just  as  the  tragic  purpose  and  character  are  neces- 
sarily determined,  so  the  solution  of  the  tragic  diffi- 
culty likewise;  and  in  this  solution  we  have  the  eter- 
nal righteousness  working  through  the  individual  and 
his  purposes  in  such  a  way  that  the  unity  of  the 
moral  Substance  is  preserved  by  the  destruction  of  the 
individual  who  disturbs  its  repose"  (i.  e.,  by  giving 
his  allegiance  to  one  interest  only).  "It  is  only  the 
one-sided  specialization  of  interest  which  is  mortified 
in  the  tragic  conclusion,  because  it  has  made  itself 
prejudicial  to  this  harmony;  and  which  now  in  its 
tragic  activity,  if  it  cannot  be  resigned,  exposes  its 
whole  totality  to  destruction  if  the  hero  persists  in 
the  prosecution  of  his  one-sided  interest." 

Hegel  was  in  a  fair  way  of  rationalizing  tragedy  for- 
ever by  showing  that  tragedy  is  conflict  and  not  suffering, 
for  conflict  we  see  and  understand.  But  he  goes  on  to 
point  out  that  the  conflict  lies  between  abstractions  of  the 
moral  sphere,  each  having  equal  right  to  exist:  e.  g.,  insti- 
tutions like  the  state  and  the  family."  Some  of  these 
abstractions  are  less  abstract  than  others :  some  are  more 

58 


nearly  universal  in  the  scope  of  their  spiritual  interests; 
and  hence  they  may  demand  from  the  moral  person  a 
subjection  that  forces  the  resignation  of  all  merely  per- 
sonal interests.  The  individual  is  the  victim  of  a  double 
paradox:  he  is  never  merely  an  individual  and  yet  he  can 
never  be  more  than  one;  for  he  is  a  complex  of  finite  and 
infinite  factors  and  is  subject  to  interests  controlled  now 
by  one  and  again  by  the  other.  Consequently  the  individ- 
ual is  a  member  x)f  many  higher  organizations ;  and  the 
higher  the  institution  the  more  does  it  demand  a  propor- 
tionate negation  of  his  purely  personal  or  subjective  na- 
ture. The  conflicts  which  arise  from  this  paradoxical 
position  presuppose  a  system  of  values  which  is  not  a 
matter  of  experience  or  personal  interest;  but  it  is  a  sys- 
tem of  transvaluations  imposed  on  the  world  by  the  oper- 
ation of  the  "Idee."  The  course  of  the  universe,  if  ra- 
tional, is  consciously  present  to  itself  only,  working  in 
accordance  with  universal  laws  sublimely  unconscious  of 
the  mere  person ;  and  granting  to  him  as  his  only  right, 
what  is  to  us,  the  totally  incomprehensible  favor  of  losing 
the  actuality  of  his  being. 

Solger  has  some  remarkable  statements  in  his  Vorle- 
sungen  ueber  Aesthetik,  where  he  points  out  that  the 
tragic  relation  in  beauty  is  a  contradiction  between  tem- 
poral phenomena  and  reality.  "  In  tragedy,  it  is  reality 
itself,  under  the  form  of  beauty,  that  is  sacrificed ;  so 
that"' 

"tragedy  consists  of  an  inner  contradiction  of  human 
nature,  wherein  the  highest,  namely  reason,  is  drawn 
into  the  sphere  of  appearance;  *  *  *  therefore, 
what  is  negated  in  tragedy  is  reason  itself,  and  not 
merely  the  temporal  appearance.  Reason,  which  is 
the  highest  and  most  venerable  in  us,  cannot  exist 
without  contradictions." 

Solger's  view  of  the  universe  presupposed  by  his  Aes- 
thetik assumes  two  metaphysical  elements :  the  spiritual 
and   the   physical    (which   Solger   sometimes   calls   respec- 

59 


tively  Reason  and  Appearance).  Neither  of  these  aspects 
is  present  as  such  to  human  cognition;  because  everything 
that  is  a  part  of  the  intelligible  universe  is  a  combination 
of  both  factors.  Knowledge  is  a  combination  of  Form 
and  Content,  the  universal  and  the  particular.  Knowledge 
and  beauty,  from  one  point  of  view,  are  identical.  Reason 
is,  in  itself,  the  real  and  true;  appearance  is  but  the  par- 
tially real  and,  in  so  far,  untrue  expression  of  reason. 
Everything  intelligible,  therefore,  like  a  work  of  art  con- 
tains an  element  of  untruth ;  because  on  one  side,  reason 
cannot  be  completely  drawn  into  the  world  of  sense;  and, 
on  the  other  side,  things  of  sense  can  never  be  fully  ideal- 
ized. Any  apotheosis  of  knowledge  to  the  dignity  of  dog- 
matic truth  is  as  disastrous  as  is  the  conflict  between  per- 
sonal and  universal  interests  in  the  sphere  of  art.  The 
result  in  both  cases  is  to  deny  validity  to  these  preten- 
sions to  Reason.  When  a  partial  truth  is  made  to  do  duty 
for  a  universal  (when  a  habit  is  given  arbitrary  value), 
the  false  evaluation  is  sure  to  bring  with  it  a  sense  of  its 
limitation  to  the  world  of  phenomena.  Since  all  things 
human  are  informed  by  a  finite  factor,  knowledge  and 
human  endeavor  are  always  mortified  by  the  apostasy  of 
reason  and  validity.  If  knowledge  can  be  no  more  perfect 
than  this,  art  will  represent  the  inability  of  the  universe 
to  guarantee  the  successful  accomplishment  of  our  pur- 
poses. This  is  just  what  tragedy  does:  implying  that  there 
is  an  element  in  the  universe  beyond  human  apprehension. 
Our  motives  are  invalidated  because  there  is  a  truth  be- 
yond motive  and  purpose  which  is  somehow  inimical  to 
the  act  of  realization."" 

I  have  been  suggesting  that  the  mystery  of  tragedy  is 
a  necessary  fiction  arising  as  a  result  of  those  systems  of 
thought  which  are  roughly  characterized  as  idealistic; 
/.  e.,  those  in  which  the  universe  is  under  the  sway  of  an 
inscrutable  element  called  reason.  The  metaphysical  basis 
of  the  world  is  so-called  because  the  world  is  apparently 
governed  by  a  power  whose  acts  are  consistent  on  either 
one  of  two  bases : 

60 


1.  That  wherein  the  world  is  regarded  as  having  a 
moral  constitution  accounting  for  suffering  and  defeat  as: 

a.  violation  of  w^ell-known  moral  regulations. 

b.  inadvertently  assuming  moral  value  for  our 
purposes  and  acts  unwarranted  by  our  knowledge. 

2.  On  the  other  basis,  Reason  is  a  metaphysical  real- 
ity, which 

a.  in  one  case  denies  the  validity  of  judgments 
based  on  emotion  or  perception ; 

b.  and  in  the  other  case,  denies  reality  both  to 
the  individual  and  to  anything  which  he  could  possi- 
bly identify  with  his  well-being. 

The  tragic,  then,  is  man's  consciousness  of  his  unbear- 
able  situation;  and  tragedy__is_its  artistic  representation. 
Having  traced  the  idea  to  an  impossible  ending,  where  a 
man  must  deceive  himself  to  live,  or  to  die,  there  is  an- 
other possible  solution  to  the  problem  which  must  be  con- 
sidered before  the  present  task  is  done.  That  other  pos- 
sible solution  lies  in  the  assertion  sometimes  heard,  that 
comedy  and  tragedy  are  very  close  together  in  their  essen- 
tial nature,  and  that  the  outlook  from  the  former  is  not 
so  black  as  painted.  In  other  words,  we  have  to  consider 
whether  the  fictitious  element  in  tragedy  is  not  reducible 
to  a  comedy  element.  Are  the  contradictions  noted  in  the 
speculation  about  tragedy  any  more  serious  than  the  am- 
biguities of  a  pun,  and  may  they  be  laughed  away  as 
easily? 

VII. 
--^    O        The  Irrational  Element  and  the  Comic  Conflict. 

Whatever  similarities  there  may  be  between  the  spec- 
ulative contradictions  of  tragedy  and  the  perceptual  con- 
trasts of  comedy  go  to  show  that  there  is  still  a  fiction  in 
tragedy  different  from  that  in  comedy.     The  seriousness 

61 


of  the  conflict  in  comedy  is  a  fiction;  for  if  it  were  not, 
the  solution  of  comedy  could  hardly  be  regarded  as  "satis- 
fying." The  similarities  of  tragedy  and  comedy  are  of 
no  more  weight  than  their  differences;  and  the  attempt 
to  harmonize  their  divergent  outlooks  requires  a  shifting 
back  and  forth  between  two  metaphysically  different  stand- 
points. 

There  is  need  for  clearing  away  the  confusing  rela- 
tions of  the  two  types  of  dramatic  art,  and  the  miscon- 
ceptions of  the  traditional  material  of  the  comic.  That 
element  of  comedy  by  which  it  is  related  to  the  theory  of 
knowledge,  and  which  makes  it  the  antithesis  of  tragedy 
as  here  defined,  will  be  best  grasped  by  excluding  from 
'Consideration  those  critical  estimates  which  rest  on  psycho- 
logical grounds.  It  is  also  expedient  to  abstract  from  the 
traditional  artistic  idea  that  the  persons  of  comedy  are 
low-born  and  commonplace;  or  the  more  speculative  idea 
that  the  persons  of  tragedy  are  individuals,  and  those  of 
comedy  types;  or  that  tragedy  is  subjective,  and  comedy 
objective.'  ' 

Taken  in  their  entirety,  it  may  be  legitimately  doubted 
whether  tragedy  and  comedy  are  in  all  points  antithetical ; 
it  may  be  possible  to  hold  a  theory-  of  their  essential  iden- 
tity. But  as  having  a  basis  in  the  theory  of  knowledge, 
tragedy  and  comedy  are  the  terms  of  an  opposition  con- 
sistently explained  by  showing  that  they  are  functions  of 
fundamentally  opposed  views  of  the  universe.  The  gen- 
eral nature  of  this  opposition  is  a  matter  of  translating 
what  is  true  for  one  view  of  the  universe  into  what  would 
be  true  for  the  opposite  view.  What  was  before  pointed 
out  as  the  criticism  of  the  merely  innate,  would  be  for 
comedy  merely  the  unreality  of  serious  problems.  The 
tragedy  which  results  from  pretensions  to  ultimate  worth 
is,  from  the  point  of  view  of  an  empirical  world,  merely 
a  contrast.  The  higher  powers  of  the  universe,  for  ideal- 
ism, are  beyond  knowledge  and  understanding  and  in  their 
operation  necessarily  express  themselves  to  us  irration- 
ally.    To  turn  this  view  to  account  for  comedy,  we  must 

62 


have  a  world  wherein  such  supernaturalism  is  not  a  real- 
ity but  a  mere  figment  of  the  mind. 

Most  comedy  lies  in  the  field  of  conflicting  wills;  and 
the  chances  that  result  do  so  because  individuals  do  not 
always  act  from  necessity,  but  sometimes  from  choice. 
The  solution  results  by  finding  that  purposes  are  not  con- 
tradictory; that  one  purpose  is  not  superior  to  another 
by  nature;  that  a  set  purpose  may  be  easily  renounced  on 
finding  that  another  serves  the  end  of  desire  just  as 
well.'"  The  comedy  of  humors,  for  example,  is  usually 
solved  by  the  simple  resolution  of  a  difficulty  which  is 
usually  the  result  of  wills  working  without  restraint 
except  that  of  limitation  to  time  and  space.  The  con- 
flict shows  clearly  that  knowledge  is  adequate  to  solve  the 
difficulty,  except  that  such  knowledge  is  not  always  forth- 
coming at  the  right  time  to  prevent  all  misunderstand- 
ing; and,  so  far  as  the  stage  is  concerned,  depends  on 
what  would  be,  for  tragedy,  adventitious  aid  for  its  solu- 
tion. This  is  the  reason  why  the  hero  of  comedy  is  so 
often  possessed  of  all  the  lines  of  action  and  appears  at 
the  right  time  to  solve  all  diflficulties.  The  hero  is  the 
abstraction  for  the  deus,  but  transformed  in  his  nature, 
since  he  is  no  more  than  what  it  is  possible  for  the  nor- 
mal human  to  be. 

There  are  in  general  two  points  of  view  from  which 
the  concept  of  comedy  is  regarded.  The  first  is  that  in 
which  a  theory  of  the  comic  or  laughable  predominates; 
and  the  other  is  that  in  which  we  have  the  moral  law  of 
the  universe  in  the  old  role  of  self-justifier."'  In  the  con- 
flict of  wills  we  have  room  for  various  theories  of  the 
comic  as  a  feeling  of  degradation,  baffled  expectation,  or 
incongruity;'"  i.  e.,  in  all  of  them  there  is  a  contrast 
with  the  norm  which  shall  be  greater  than  any  other 
term.  The  theory  that  all  drama  is  conflict  is  obliged  so  far 
as  comedy  is  concerned,  to  tone  down  the  conflict  to  some- 
thing like  mere  contrast  or  to  suppose  that  the  conflict  is 
after  all  unimportant — in  fact,  no  real  conflict  at  all.'"' 
It  is  as  Muensterberg  says:     "In  comedy  the  great   will 

63 


is  recognized  as  really  a  small  one  for  which  true  oppo- 
sition never  existed.'"" 

With  Schopenhauer  the  attempt  to  find  a  consistent 
theory  of  comedy  leads  one  to  expect  that  he  will  either 
contradict  his  view  of  the  world  as  essentially  tragic,  or 
debase  the  function  of  comedy  to  that  of  a  mistaken  view. 
He  says:''" 

"If  we  have  found  the  tendency  and  ultimate 
intention  of  tragedy  to  be  a  resignation,  a  denial  of 
the  will  to  live,  we  shall  easily  recognize  in  its  oppo- 
site, comedy,  the  incitement  to  the  continued  asser- 
tion of  the  will.  It  is  true  that  comedy,  like  every 
representation  of  life  without  exception,  must  bring 
before  our  eyes  suffering  and  adversity;  but  it  rep- 
resents it  to  us  as  passing,  resolving  itself  into  joy, 
in  general  mingled  with  success,  victory,  and  hopes, 
which  in  the  end  predominate.  '■"  *  *  Thus  in  the 
end  it  declares  that  life  as  a  whole  is  thoroughly 
good,  and  especially  it  is  always  amusing;  *  *  * 
and  moreover  if  we  once  contemplate  this  burlesque 
side  of  life  seriously  *  *  *  the  reflective  spectator 
may  become  convinced  that  the  existence  and  action 
of  such  things  (embarrassed,  fearful,  angry,  envious) 
cannot  of  themselves  be  an  end ;  that,  on  the  con- 
trary, they  can  only  have  attained  to  an  existence 
through  an  error,  and  what  so  exhibits  itself  is  some- 
thing which  had  better  not  be." 

On  the  other  hand,  the  idealism  of  the  Nineteenth 
Century  has  explained  comedy  as  a  function  of  the  moral 
order  of  the  universe.  Michelet,  perhaps,  gives  the  clear- 
est expression  to  this  idea."'  "In  comedy  the  moral  rela- 
tions are  so  represented  that  in  general  the  character  is 
not  destroyed,  but  maintains  his  power  over  them  and  is 
certain  of  victory  from  the  beginning.  '•'  *  *  The  col- 
lision is  more  a  contrast  contradicting  sense,  or  of  great 
effort  directed  toward  an  insignificant  end"    (than  toward 

64 


a  conflict  of  inimical  forces).  For  Krause  the  moral  good 
forces  itself  to  expression  when  mere  experience  is  found 
to  be  in  harmony  with  reason.""  In  this  he  follows  Sol- 
ger,  for  whom  comedy  is  the  lawfulness  of  the  common- 
place course  of  events."" 

The  recognition  of  those  elements  essential  to  the 
concepts  of  tragedy  and  comedy,  whereby  their  divergent 
outlooks  on  the  world  are  explained,  may  proceed  by  a 
symmetrical  analysis  of  these  concepts  as  problems  of 
knowledge  wherein  both  rational  and  irrational  factors 
may  be  discovered.  What  is  the  contrast  between  the 
function  of  knowledge  in  a  world  of  tragedy  and  in  one 
of  comedy? 

In  these  epochs  of  thought  when  empirical  attitudes 
prevail;  when  man  asserts  that  he  knows  the  outer  world 
as  it  is  with  finality  and  absolute  truth;  or  when,  in  his 
ethical  system  he  declares  that  instinct,  impulse,  and  sen- 
suous interpretation  of  happiness  lead  to  ultimate  good; 
then  his  dramatic  art  will  be  expressed  as  comedy.  For 
does  not  comedy  represent  a  way  out  of  the  difficulties 
of  conduct  as  much  by  the  power  of  knowledge  over 
events  as  by  the  belief  in  a  victorious  hero?  The  reali- 
zation of  personal  aims  in  comedy  depends  on  the  fact 
that  the  outer  world  is  the  very  basis  and  possibility  of 
those  aims.  Were  our  purposes  strictly  of  another  world, 
they  could  not  be  forced  to  realization  in  this  world  ex- 
cept by  inartistic  machinery  and  metaphysical  abstrac- 
tions. Those  eras  in  which  there  is  for  the  theory  of 
knowledge  only  one  significant  factor,  the  external,  are 
preeminently  eras  of  comedy.  Such  are,  for  example,  the 
age  of  Aristophanes  with  his  contemporary  Democritus, 
and  that  attitude  (generally  the  antithesis  of  Plato's) 
represented  by  the  Sophists,  atomists,  and  in  ethics,  the 
hedonists.  Similar  periods  are,  perhaps,  the  second  cen- 
tury before  Christ  in  Rome;  the  Seventeenth  Century  in 
France,  and  the  later  Seventeenth  Century  in  England. 
It  is  not  accidental  that  the  philosophy  of  Hobbes  de- 
scribed a  world  in  which  comedy  is  possible. 

65 


But  those  epochs  which  are  skeptical  of  the  world 
without;  when  only  that  is  true  which  is  beyond  this 
world,  will  be  given  to  tragic  art  in  drama.  In  such 
epochs  of  thought  the  external  world  is  constituted  by 
subjective  ideas  having  illusory  value  for  the  world  of 
sense.  Man's  own  personal  knowledge  is  temporary  and 
contingent.  The  state  crushes  the  citizen;  the  gods  are 
denizens  of  a  world  superior  to  that  of  the  worshiper; 
the  ultimate  good  is  a  demand  incapable  of  realization 
here  and  now.  Knowledge  gives  no  superiority  neither 
over  the  world  nor  over  the  forces  external  to  man,  ex- 
cept perhaps  negatively.  Because  man  cannot  understand 
them,  nor  accommodate  his  ends  to  them,  he  is  crushed 
by  them.  There  is  no  way  through  a  situation  in  which 
man  sets  his  contingent  knowledge  in  opposition  to  the 
eternal;  unrighteous  purposes  and  impulsive  action  alike 
go  down  before  the  larger  conceptions  of  the  universe. 
Such  periods  have  been  the  Sophoclean,  the  Renaissance, 
and  the  Nineteenth  Century.  It  must  be  remembered 
that  no  epoch  is  correctly  described  by  one  characteristic 
only;  though  it  is  permissible  to  abstract  a  dominant 
tendency  for  the  sake  of  clarity.  Thus,  the  natural  antith- 
esis of  the  comedy  of  Moliere  is  the  tragedy  of  Racine; 
and  in  the  Nineteenth  Century  idealism  has  an  antithesis 
in  evolution  and  other  theories  of  science. 

By  presenting  the  contrast  between  comedy  and 
tragedy  a  little  more  in  detail  we  can  see  the  antithetical 
ideas  of  the  two  concepts  more  clearly.  What  the  un 
knowable  is  in  the  sphere  of  philosophy,  that  tragedy 
to  the  sphere  of  art.  Tragedy  is  incomprehensible  to 
common  sense;  but  simple  disaster  is  to  it  but  the  result 
of  known  causes.  There  is  in  the  concept  of  tragedy  an 
unknowable  element  which  emerges  only  on  the  level  of  a 
reflection  higher  than  that  of  common  sense.  To  make 
of  tragedy  a  conceit  of  knowledge  (/.  e.,  the  cause  and 
purpose  hypostatized  as  knowable)  would  imply  the  com- 
plete reversal  of  the  common  sense  view;  and  would  imply 
the  evaluation  of  failure  as  of  ultimate  worth.     To  do  so 

66 


?J 


requires  a  conversion  of  the  individual  in  which  he  puts 
off  all  particularity  and  finiteness.  The  artist  who  writes 
a  tragedy  admits  his  inability  to  portray  an  orderly  world 
in  such  terms  as  he  has  at  his  command.  The  aesthetic 
satisfactoriness  of  the  view  of  the  world  presented  in  the 
play,  as  far  as  the  audience  is  concerned,  must  lie  in  the 
close  agreement  of  audience  and  author,  and  their  mutual 
loss  of  conceit  both  with  their  world  and  with  their  power 
of  understanding. 

For  tragedy,  that  is,  our  ideals  have  no  reality  and 
can  have  none;  and  it  is  even  more  than  doubtful  if  they 
have  ideal  value.  Knowledge  defines  but  inadequately  the 
relation  between  will  and  act,  purpose  and  world-plan. 
Hence  obstacles  to  human  happiness  prove  insuperable. 
In   brief,   tragedy   implies  an    insufficiency   somewhere   in 

I     human  knowledge;  but  in  comedy  there  is  no  question  as 

rf^to  the  adequacy  of  knowledge  with  respect  to  its  object. 

'  The  function  of  knowledge  in  comedy  is  that  of  an 

orderly  world.  Dramatic  art  as  comedy  discovers  to  us; 
an  external  world  in  which  the  knowledge  we  have  of  it 
is  real.  If  the  hero  of  comedy  takes  care  that  his  knowl- 
edge is  strictly  certified,  he  may  for  that  very  reason 
maintain  his  superiority  over  external  events.  The  cir- 
cumvention of  the  stage  villain  is  possible  when  his  pre- 

I  tensions  are  exposed:  not  because  the  hero  is  good  and 
the  villain  bad.  The  orderly  knowledge  which  enables  the 
hero  to  be  such,  is  not  always  mere  sense  perception ;  but 
often  a  higher  process  of  judgment  which  enables  a  man 
to  conceive  and  execute  a  successful  course  of  conduct. 
When  our  habits  are  conformable  to  such  knowledge,  that 
is,  to  first  hand  knowledge  of  an  orderly  world,  we  may 
avoid  just  those  entanglements  which  arise  from  per- 
ceptual contradiction  familiar  to  us  in  the  ordinary 
comic  devices.  Our  ideals  in  so  far  as  they  are  specific 
acts,  to  be  realized  in  time  and  space,  are  easy  and  cer- 
tain of  accomplishment.""  A  person  may  pursue  even  a 
mistaken  course  of  conduct,  at  least  one  suggested  by 
insufficient  knowledge,  without  fear  of  ultimate  disaster. 

67 


This  concept  is  consistent  without  reference  to  the  moral 
quality  of  the  act,  or  to  the  ethical  constitution  of  the 
person. 

Satiric  comedy  directed  against  the  idiosyncrasy  of 
the  more  or  less  eminent  person  finds  its  solution  in  the 
increase  of  knowledge  making  the  hero  conformable  to 
the  acknowledged  rational  order  of  the  world.  If  comedy 
reconciles  by  purging  the  mind  of  false  knowledge,  the 
chief  difficulty  that  might  overtake  the  hero  would  be  the 
necessity  of  changing  his  body  of  knowledge.  A  change 
of  habit  is  not  accomplished  without  pain ;  but  it  is  sig- 
nificant that  art  can  appreciate  and  use  a  view  of  the 
world  in  which  it  is  the  obstacles  to  happiness  that  are 
irrational,  and  not  happiness  itself. 

The  world  of  comedy  is  one  in  which  the  spiritual 
world  does  not  exist  as  an  external  reality,  but  only  as 
an  abstraction.  The  spiritual  is  to  be  explained  in  terms 
of  the  physical.  Perceptual  knowledge  of  such  a  world, 
because  it  is  not  duplicit,  and  because  knowledge  is  a 
copy,  is  sufficient  to  carry  a  man  through  all  ordinary 
entanglements  of  life.  The  validity  of  knowledge  makes 
a  man  superior  to  all  complexities ;  for  in  the  last  analy- 
sis they  are  seen  to  arise  from  the  lack  of  knowledge,  or 
from  confusions  in  the  abstract  world  of  the  spirit.  Con- 
fusion which  is  after  all  an  unreal  abstraction  could  not 
maintain  itself  for  a  moment  when  confronted  by  the 
facts.  The  facts  in  tragedy,  however,  are  the  very  things 
that  aggravate  the  mystery.  But  true  ratiocination  from 
causes  to  eff'ects  and  effects  to  causes  is  the  basis  of  all 
comic  solution  in  a  profoundly  real  world." 

The  higher  concrete  processes  of  knowledge  find  a 
certain  revelation  in  those  situations  in  which  the  ques- 
tion of  good  and  evil  has  given  way  to  one  of  spiritual 
integration  and  disintegration,  where  the  ultimately  real 
is  the  ultimately  moral.  Here  also  comedy  recognizes  a 
rational  element  in  the  universe,  though  the  hero  may  be 
sufficiently  onesided  to  be  brought  into  conflict  with  the 
fundamental  unity  of  reality,  even  though  this  be  merely 

68 


the  consistency  of  time  and  space.  In  more  serious  cases, 
if  comedy  is  to  be  anything  more  than  warped  and  inar- 
tistic didacticism,  the  solution  must  preserve  in  the  minds 
of  the  persons  a  right  view  of  the  world  in  so  far  as 
science  is  able  to  describe  it.  This  is  not  a  supernatural 
feat,  but  a  solution  based  on  the  belief  in  the  actuality 
of  reason  in  the  individual,  as  well  as  in  the  world  at 
large.  The  interference  of  the  supernatural  in  the  affairs 
of  men,  as  a  deus  ex  machina,  is  not  to  be  tolerated  either 
from  the  point  of  view  of  art  or  that  of  philosophy.  To 
use  anything  professedly  supra-human  in  the  solution  of 
human  entanglements  is  the  bankruptcy  of  art  for  an 
empirical  world.  The  artist  admits  by  so  doing  that  his 
vision  is  unclarified  in  the  comprehension  of  the  ordinary 
affairs  of  existence,  and  that  his  art  is  deficient  by  rea- 
son of  his  inability  to  reorganize  his  material  to  exhibit 
the  world  as  after  all  trustworthy  in  its  external  aspects. 
In  fact  the  deus  is  a  metaphysical  monster;  since,  if  it 
must  be  used,  it  can  be  so  only  in  a  situation  not  amen- 
able to  human  reason.  That,  for  an  intellectualist,  is  a 
deficient  view  of  the  world.  Because  the  world  is  too  ir- 
rational to  submit  to  human  power  and  knowledge  the 
spectator  is  thrown  back  on  irrational  sources  of  appre- 
hension. But  true  knowledge  in  a  world  of  sense  invali- 
dates the  distinction  between  reality  and  phenomena  and 
makes  knowledge  itself  the  necessary  and  suflficient  instru- 
ment of  truth. 

These  references  to  the  serious  drama  could  be  illus- 
trated by  Goethe's  Iphigeneia  in  Taurus."  The  integrat- 
ing element  of  the  world  is  the  fundamental  metaphysical 
reality.  Orestes  thought  the  whole  race  of  Tantalus  to  be 
branded  with  a  curse;  yet  there  is  within  humanity  itself 
a  regenerating  impulse.  "Out  of  thy  passions,  0  man, 
hast  thou  made  thy  gods."  When  ends  and  purposes  are 
erected  out  of  purified  passions,  then  man  may  hope  for 
salvation.  The  recognition  on  the  part  of  the  author  that 
such  things  be,  as  a  completely  integrated  personality,  is 
precisely   that  which   makes  his   art  a   testimony  to   the 

69 


ultimate  rationality  of  the  universe.  Orestes'  task  is  to 
gain  a  clear  understanding  of  the  fundamental  moral  law ; 
and  then  the  drama  is  a  question  of  the  validity  of  con- 
duct flowing  from  a  true  knowledge  of  the  universe, 
rather  than  a  question  of  the  moral  depravity  or  exalta- 
tion of  the  person.  The  crass,  superstitious  point  of  view 
had  to  give  way  to  a  refined  view  of  the  world:  a  thing 
impossible  by  an  abstract  moral  regeneration,  and  pos- 
sible only  when  the  truth  of  the  world  fills  the  mind. 
That  such  knowledge  was  finally  gained  is  evidence  for 
the  validity  of  the  world  as  revealed  by  the  ordinary 
powers  of  the  mind.  But,  to  be  sure,  this  is  not  the 
result  of  simple  observation;  for  it  implies  also  man's 
ability  to  conceive  ends  in  accordance  with  the  laws  of 
the  world  on  which  depends  the  possibility  of  righteous- 
ness attending  human   endeavor. 

Because  it  is  obvious  that  in  the  variety  of  mean- 
ings attached  to  the  terms  comedy  and  tragedy  there  will 
be  some  contradictory  views  that  cannot  be  simultaneously 
held  with  consistency,  it  may  be  possible  to  sum  up  the 
rational  and  irrational  elements  in  the  two  concepts. 

Comedy  is  rational  because  it  means  essentially,  that 
on  the  basis  of  a  lawful  world,  situations  are  amenable 
to  solution.  The  concept  of  the  comic  situation  implies  a 
world  in  which  the  individual  is  directly  in  touch  wth 
reality  to  such  an  extent,  and  in  such  a  kind,  that  his 
knowledge  is  sufficient  to  analyze  the  conflict  into  cause 
and  effect.  Those  complexities  of  an  arbitrary  nature, 
concerning  which  there  is  no  foreknowing  (e.  g.,  the 
actions  of  disintegrated  mentalities),  are  easily  disposed 
of  by  social  or  scientific  discipline.  At  any  rate,  they  are 
not  imposed  on  us  from  without  by  an  alien  power.  When 
comedy  lies  in  the  field  of  conflicting  wills,  acting  not 
from  strict  necessity  but  sometimes  from  choice,  the  solu- 
tion lies  in  finding  that  such  purposes  are  not  ultimately 
contradictory." 

But  there  are  in  the  concept  of  comedy  certain  ab- 
stractions for  the  irrational  elements  of  tragedy."     The 

70 


comic  situation  is  often,  as  a  whole,  irrational  because 
dependent  on  a  misunderstanding  that  can  only  be  re- 
garded as  a  perverse  and  conscious  act  of  lawlessness. 
Such  a  thing  is  an  anomaly  in  a  rational  world;  and  it 
can  result  only  from  an  unreal  world  of  fancy  or  whim ; 
or  from  the  equally  unnecessary  condition  of  ignorance. 
The  limitation  of  facts  to  time  and  space  relations;  and 
the  oftentimes  capricious  nature  of  fancy  and  emotion, 
serve  as  the  entering  wedge  of  irrationality  into  the  world 
of  empirical  reality."'  Mental  confusion  so  inexplicable 
to  common  sense  can  arise  from  these  causes ;  or  conceiv- 
ably also  from  those  pretensions  to  knowledge  which  we 
call  ignorance.  The  comic  has  also  a  vestige  of  the  tragic 
solution.  The  change  of  habit  so  often  necessary  for  the 
solution  of  comedy  is  not  a  little  pathetic  when  pet  con- 
ceits, identified  with  the  ultimate  values  of  life,  go  by  the 
board.  The  discipline  and  suffering  of  the  hero  of  trag- 
edy has,  as  its  correlate  in  comedy,  the  correction  of  false 
knowledge  for  consistent  maxims  of  conduct.'"  If  the 
world  is  real  as  we  see  it,  and  our  knowledge  thereof 
valid;  then  we  can  bend  the  world  to  our  will  and  retain 
control  over  circumstances.  If  man  should  succeed  in 
staving  off  death  at  will,  that  would  be  the  most  divine 
comedy  the  mind  of  man  could  conceive. 

The  first  element  of  the  irrationality  of  tragedy  has 
already  been  suggested  as  the  fact  that  reason,  on  the 
basis  of  certain  views  of  the  universe  and  in  certain 
epochs  of  history,  found  itself  unable  to  cope  with  the 
complexities  of  the  universe.  Tragic  difficulties  could  not 
obviously  be  of  the  making  of  human  wills.  The  par- 
tiality of  knowledge  when  it  pretended  to  absolute  valid- 
ity plunged  man  into  conflicts  with  the  so-called  moral  or 
universal  forces  of  the  universe.  Because  we  fail  to  rec- 
ognize this  limitation  to  our  knowledge,  we  are  dismayed 
if  our  pet  conceits,  put  to  the  test,  prove  ineffective  to 
secure  our  good.  If  it  is  our  fate  that  we  can  pay  alle- 
giance to  half-truths  only,  yet  man  does  not  rise  to  en- 
thusiasm   for    the    renunciation    of   those    half-truths    de- 

71 


manded  by  a  dynamic  life.  The  partial  failure  of  meta- 
physical and  moral  idealism  to  rationalize  the  notion  of 
tragedy  lies  in  the  negation  of  the  individual  in  all  decis- 
ive situations.  The  very  concept  seems  to  imply  that  the 
individual  has  no  interests  which  are  not  outlawed  by  the 
very  fact  that  he  has  them.  Art  cannot  rise  above  this 
contradiction,  however  skilfully  it  may  be  glozed  by  phi- 
losophy. But  it  is  undeniable  that  from  the  point  of 
view  of  the  great  idealistic  systems,  tragedy  is  only  a 
revelation  of  the  eternally  true,  which  always  wins  no 
matter  what  specious  reasons  come  up  against  it. 

The  adherent  of  the  false  is  destroyed  as  the  false 
and  the  evil  should  be.  But  this  universality  is  an  "other- 
ness" to  the  individual.  The  total  moral  state  of  the  uni- 
verse is,  doubtless,  always  much  richer  for  tragedy  so 
conceived.  Yet  to  adapt  an  expression  used  in  another 
connection:'"  "This  ethical  majesty  is  not  all  gain;  the 
apotheosis  of  the  sprit,  by  undeifying  nature,  impover- 
ished man."  The  transcendent  solution  can  be  reconciled 
to  human  ends;  though,  it  must  be  conceded,  only  by  re- 
nouncing all  that  is  opposed  to  the  supreme  law  of  the 
world;  and  this,  the  ironical  destruction  of  the  lesser 
power  of  man,  too  often  implies  the  complete  renunciation 
of  our  very  humanity.'" 


VIII. 

General  Summary. 

The  conception  of  tragedy  may  be  regarded  as  an 
attempt  to  make  man's  position  in  the  world  intelligible; 
especially  as  an  attempt  to  make  rational  this  position  on 
its  more  serious  side  and  in  its  more  somber  aspects. 
The  tragic  situation  when  regarded  as  purely  an  artistic 
matter  has  three  factors:  the  tragic  guilt;  the  reversal  of 
fortune;  and  the  inevitable  conditions.  No  one  of  these 
factors  is  satisfactory  as  an  explanation  when  the  respon- 
sibility for  the  tragedy  is  put  upon  it.     The  universe  does 

72 


indeed  contain  unknowable  factors;  but  if  the  universe  is 
to  be  regarded  as  a  completely  rational  whole,  man  should 
not  suffer  for  his  ignorance  of  those  elements  which  are 
in  their  nature  unknowable.  The  guiding  thread  for  the 
discussion  of  these  points  was  found  in  the  possibility 
that  there  might  be  some  relation  between  the  unknow- 
able element  of  the  world  and  the  factors  of  the  tragic 
situation. 

None  of  these  factors  was  satisfactory,  nor  com- 
pletely rational;  for  pertinent  questions  could  be  asked 
for  which  no  answer  could  be  found: 

1.  If  tragic  guilt  was  not  necessarily  moral  or  true 
guilt : 

a.  why,  then,  should  the  individual  suffer  for  his 
acts  in  fruition  of  a  laudable  aspiration? 

b.  Why  should  such  acts  entail  as  results  pun- 
ishment and  suffering  out  of  all  proportion  to  the 
quality  of  the  act? 

2.  The  reversal  of  fortune  was  hypostatized,  by  rea- 
son of  the  exaggeration  of  the  emotional  effects  of  that 
idea,  and  regarded  as  a  divine  malignity,  or  as  an  arbi- 
trary supervision  of  the  conditions  of  man's  happiness 
and  misery. 

a.  If  there  be  such  a  thing  as  this  Fortune,  then 
the  world  is  not  subject  to  the  laws  of  what  we  would 
like  to  think  of  as  Justice. 

b.  The  idea  of  reparation  for  the  "too  much"  of 
anything  by  arbitrarily  substituting  the  opposite  ex- 
treme may  be  good  metaphysics  but  rather  cold  com- 
fort. 

3.  Finitude  as  guilt  and  as  inevitably  leading  to  the 
tragic  negation  of  the  individual: 

a.  seems  to  be  merely  a  result  of  speculation  on 
the  relation  of  the  finite  to  the  infinite; 

b.  and  makes  intolerable  the  position  of  the  indi- 
vidual in  his  relation  to  the  universe. 

73 


The  conceptions   and   definitions  of  tragedy  seem  to 
,     follow  general  types:  e.  g.,  the  tragedy  of  moral  valor,  of 
'     poetic  justice;  the  conflict  of  ethical  institutions;  conflict 
in  the  nature  of  reality:  between  appearance  and  reality, 
/      between  the  finite  and  the  universal.     Testimony  to  any 
or  all  of  these  conceptions  may  be  found  in  tragic  art. 
But  for  the  purpose  of  more  minute  exposition,  in  which 
a  relation  was  to  be  pointed  out  between  the  tragic  con- 
ception and  the  theory  of  knowledge  characteristic  of  that 
conception,    typical    moments    in    the   history    of    thought 
were  chosen.     The  moments  of  thought  chosen  for  illus- 
tration were : 

1.  The  fall  of  a  prince;  i.  e.,  misfortune  overtaking 
a  king  who  is  king  by  divine  right. 

2.  The  fall  of  a  great  mind;  i.  e.,  the  ruin  of  a  great 
mind  by  reason  of  devastating  passion. 

3.  The  tragic  conception  of  finitude  as  guilt. 

The  first  of  these  was  suggested  by  certain  dramas 
of  the  English  Renaissance.  The  Renaissance  is  regarded 
A  as  a  time  when  innate  values  are  under  criticism,  as  in 
the  case  of  Marlowe's  Faustus,  who  rejects  the  traditional 
>.  bodies  of  knowledge.  The  idea  that  kingship  is  sacred  is 
subjected  to  the  same  criticism.  The  prince  is  himself 
subject  to  the  laws  of  equity,  and  to  disregard  them  is  to 
bring  ruin  upon  himself.  But  the  popular  consciousness 
was  more  troubled  by  the  sad  end  and  reversal  of  fortune 
in  such  cases,  than  by  any  consideration  of  a  true  cause 
of  the  disaster.  The  whim  of  Fortune  suggests  an  un- 
knowable cause;  and  to  overcome  the  whimsicalities  of 
Fortune  requires  the  subjection  of  desire  to  reason.  The 
Complaint  of  Henry  finds  its  answer  in  Greene's  pamph- 
lets, where  he  indicates  that  man  may  overcome  the  mis- 
chance of  fortune  by  fortifying  himself  with  philosophi- 
cal precepts,  a  lesson  which  he  had  learned  from  antiquity. 
Or,  as  Descartes  says  in  his  Discourse  on  Method:'"' 

"My  third  maxim  was  to  endeavor  always  to  con- 
quer   myself    rather    than    fortune,    and    change    my 

74 


desires  rather  than  the  order  of  the  world,  and  in 
general  accustom  myself  to  the  persuasion  that,  ex- 
cept our  own  thoughts,  there  is  absolutely  nothing  in 
our  power." 

The  history  of  this  idea  of  overcoming  the  outer 
world  by  a  discipline  of  the  self  was  traced  from  Aristotle 
to  the  Seventeenth  Century.  Contemplation  as  an  activ- 
ity of  virtue,  though  it  required  external  means  wherein 
man  might  be  subject  to  vicissitudes,  was,  yet,  not  mate- 
rially affected  by  them.  The  Stoics  and  the  Epicureans 
found  the  defeat  of  Fortune  in  the  resignation  of  the 
will  to  the  Reason  of  the  world,  and  in  the  happiness 
which  wisdom  affords.  Boethius  in  his  Consolation  of 
Philosophy  tried  to  show  that  no  natural  good  lay  in  the 
power  of  Fortune  either  to  give  or  to  take  away.  The 
Seventeenth  Century  continued  in  a  technical  way  to 
break  dowm  the  superstition  of  chance  or  fortune  by  con- 
ceiving the  world  as  a  rational  system  subject  to  the  laws 
of  reason  of  which  man's  mathematical  knowledge  is  a 
type.  This  period  did  not  succeed  completely  in  its  task 
of  rationalizing  passion  and  emotion  and  sensuous  knowl- 
edge, and  it  was  to  these  that  misfortune  was  ascribed. 
The  typical  tragedy  of  this  period  is  that  of  the  fall  of  a 
great  mind.  Spinoza's  idea  of  man's  bondage  and  free- 
dom was  seen  to  be  embodied  in  and  ilustrated  by  Ra- 
cine's Phedre. 

In  the  section  called  "The  Speculative  Outcome"  the 
inevitable  conditions  leading  to  the  catastrophe  of  a 
tragedy  were  shown  to  be  a  metaphysical  demand.  This 
demand,  as  interpreted  by  idealistic  thinkers,  was  traced 
to  the  same  source  as  the  tragic  guilt.  The  result  of  this 
speculation  was  to  make  the  position  of  the  individual 
intolerable;  for  everything  to  which  he  could  ascribe  a 
right  to  exist,  to  which  he  ought  to  pay  allegiance,  in- 
volved him  in  insoluble  conflicts.  This  result  was  re- 
ferred for  its  basis  to  the  philosophy  of  Hegel  and  Solger. 

Finally,   the   possibility   of   reducing   the    conflicts   of 


tragedy  to  the  same  basis  as  the  conflicts  of  comedy  was 
discussed  in  the  last  section.  It  was  there  pointed  out 
that  certain  essential  distinctions  between  the  conceptions 
of  tragedy  and  comedj'^  must  be  reckoned  with.  This 
point  was  referred  for  explanation  to  the  divergent 
theories  of  knowledge  underlying  the  aesthetic  values  of 
the  two  kinds  of  drama. 


76 


NOTES. 

1.  The  conceptions  and  definitions  referred  to  are  as  follows: 
A.  Poetic  justice,  as  defended  by  Reich  against  Schopenhauer  in 
Schopenhauer  als  Philos.  d.  Trag.  1888.  B.  The  Aristotelian  concep- 
tion in  the  Poetics.  On  this  whole  matter  see  Lessing:  Hamburg. 
Dram.  St.  79.  The  works  of  Bernays;  Bywater;  and  Butcher:  Aris- 
totle's Philosophy  of  Fine  Art,  p.  317,  for  the  interpretation  of  "amar- 
tia";  and  on  this  point  see  also  P.  van  Braam  in  Class.  Quart.,  Oct., 
1912,  p.  266.  C.  The  Hegelian  theory  that  tragedy  is  conflict  due  to 
onesidedness  of  interest  in  moral  institutions.  Hegel :  Vorl.  u.  d.  Aes- 
thetik  III:  526  ff.  Michelet:  System  d.  Philos.  Ill,  443.  See  also  the 
translation  by  Hastie  under  the  title:  Philosophy  of  Art,  by  Hegel  and 
Michelet,  Edinburgh,  1886.  D.  The  theory  of  conflict  between  wills. 
Muensterberg :  Eternal  Values,  p.  230  ff.  Urban:  Valuation.  E.  Trag- 
edy as  victory  and  freedom  in  suffering.  Courtney:  Tragedy.  Ziegler: 
Das  Gefuhl,  S.  140.  F.  The  medieval  conception  of  the  fall  of  great 
men  through  the  indiscriminate  strokes  of  Fortune.  Boethius :  Con- 
solation of  Philosophy,  Bk.  I,  met.  5,  pr.  5,  6;  Bk.  II,  pr.  1,  2,  3,  4,  etc. 
Chaucer:  Monk's  Prologxie.  Puttenham:  Arte  of  English  Poesie 
(Arber),  pp.  41,  48.  G.  Schopenhauer's  necessary  resignation  of  the 
will  to  live  through  recognition  of  the  inner  irrationality  of  the  uni- 
verse. World  as  Will  and  Idea  III:  212  (Eng.  trans.).  Bahnsen : 
Das  Tragische  als  Weltgesetz.  Ibid.  Zur  Philos.  d.  Geschichte.  Sully: 
Pessimism,  p.  107.  Eisler:  Woerterbuch  (1904)  II:  510.  Volkelt: 
System,  etc.,  II:  294. 

2.  The  question  of  valuation  cannot  yet  be  determined.  What 
is  meant  is  that  a  purpose  more  intimate  and  personal  gives  way  to 
one  more  remote  and  general.  Whether  such  a  movement  constitutes 
tragedy  or  comedy  depends  on  other  considerations. 

3.  For  a  full  discussion  of  tragic  guilt  see  Volkelt:  System  d. 
Aesthetik,  sub  voce. 

4.  Motives  supplying  tragic  guilt:  A.  Conduct  motivated  by 
passion.  Romeo  and  Juliet;  Othello,  and  the  "revenge"  plays  in 
general,  e.  g.,  Kyd:  The  Spanish  Tragedy.  B.  Too  great  regard  for 
moral  principles.  Sophocles:  Antfgone;  and  the  case  of  Hippolytus 
in  the  dramas  by  Euripides,  Seneca,  and  Racine.  C.  Disregard  for 
moral  principles.  Macbeth.  Ford:  'Tis  Pity  She's  a  Whore.  Webster: 
The  White  Devil,  "radiant  with  evil."  In  Marlowe's  Faustus  there 
is  a  conscious  disiegard  for  the  need  of  personal  righteousness. 
Faustus  sacrifices  his  integrity  as  conceived  by  Christianity  for  the 
sake  of  worldly  ends.  D.  Predisposition  to  commit  lawless  acts. 
This  was  the  infirmity  of  the   House  of  Atreus   and    in   fact  of  the 

77 


whole  race  of  Tantalus.  E.  Error  or  frailty  of  judgment.  The  case 
of  King  Lear.  F.  Conspicuous  aspiration.  Shirley:  The  Cardinal. 
Chapman:  Bussy  D'Ambois.     Ibsen:  An  Enemy  of  the  People. 

5.  Extension  of  the  meaning  of  tragic  guilt.  A.  Allegiance  to 
unworthy  ends.  The  king  in  Marlowe's  Edward  II.  B.  Devotion  to 
one  interest  exclusively.  Michelet,  1.  c.  so  defines.  Hebbel:  Werke  X: 
13f.  35f.  So  also  among  others  L.  Ziegler,  op.  c.  45.  Krause  (see  von 
Hartmann;  Aesthetik  1:439).  Lotze:  Outlines  of  Aesthetics  104. 
Vischer:  Schoene  u.  d.  Kunst  180.     Schelling:  Philos.  d.  Kunst  695. 

6.  The  reversal  of  fortune  interpreted  as  divine  jealousy. 
Aeschylus  in  Agamemnon  750  ff.     (Plumptrie)  : 

"There  lives  an  old  saw  framed  in  ancient  days, 
In  memories  of  men,  that  high  estate 
Full  grown,  brings  forth  its  young  nor  childless  dies; 

But  that  from  good  success 
Springs  to  the  race  a  woe  insatiable." 

The  translator  adds  a  note:  "The  dominant  creed  of  Greece  at 
this  time  was,  that  the  gods  were  envious  of  man's  prosperity,  and 
this  alone,  apart  from  moral  evil,  was  enough  to  draw  down  their 
wrath,  and  bring  a  curse  upon  the  prosperous  house.  So  e.  g.,  Amasis 
tells  Polycrates  (Herod,  iii  40)  that  the  unseen  divinity  that  rules  the 
world  is  envious,  that  power  and  glory  are  inevitably  the  precursors 
of  destruction."  This  idea  was  popularized  in  Western  Europe  by 
Boethius.  Aeschylus  himself  rejects  the  notion.  Cf.  Campbell  in  his 
edition  of  Eschylus,  p.  xvi.  "The  poet  here  diverges  from  the  crude 
notion  of  Nemesis  and  Divine  Envy  contending  that  sin  and  not 
prosperity  is  the  cause  of  ruin  *  *  *  Justice  will  triumph  but 
not  necessarily  now."  Fortune  is  the  state  of  a  man  with  respect  to 
the  world  and  its  goods;  but  it  may  also  be  conceived  as  the  cause  of 
a  change  in  that  status.  Hence  "change  of  fortune"  has  a  double 
reference.  The  result  is  the  same  whether  the  tragedy  is  due  to  the 
jealousy  of  the  gods.  Nemesis,  to  moral  transgression,  or  to  an  ar- 
bitrary "Fortune." 

7.  On  the  inevitableness  Herodotus  remarks:  "Xerxes  works 
out  his  own  destruction,  but  he  is  brought  to  this  by  the  irresistible 
leadings  of  a  divine  power.  'It  was  to  be  so.'  When  the  good  counsel 
of  Artabanus  had  all  but  prevailed,  the  dream  was  sent  by  God  to 
bring  it  to  nought.  The  Xerxes  of  Aeschylus  falls  under  the  censure 
of  Darius  for  his  impious  recklessness  in  listening  to  evil  counsellors 
who  had  hastened  on  the  desti*uction,  which  had  been  prophesied 
indeed,  but  which  might  otherwise  have  been  delayed."  (Campbell: 
Aeschylus  xv). 

8.  Ivessing:  Hamburgische  Dramaturgic,  St.  1  and  79. 

9.  Bahnsen  describes  the  illogical  contradictions  of  the  world  as 
a  "real   dialectic"  process.     "Nothing  but  the  will   rending  itself  in 


eternal  self-partition  to  endless  torment."  Cf.  his  Das  Tragische,  SS. 
45,  65,  69,  etc.  Volkelt,  op.  c.  II:  294.  Sully:  Pessimism,  p.  107. 
Eisler:  Woerterbuch,  1.  c. 

10.  The  attempt  to  view  the  universe  conceptually  in  all  of  its 
aspects  allows  us  to  speak  of  the  unity  of  all  philosophical  inquiry  in 
somewhat  the  same  sense  that  we  speak  of  the  unity  of  science.  By 
reason  of  its  conceptual  character,  philosophy  is  supposed  to  be  able  to 
view  the  universe  in  a  way  impossible  to  the  specific  sciences.  This 
does  not  deny  to  mathematics,  for  example,  the  conceptual  character 
of  a  pure  science;  nor  does  it  deny  that  science  may  have  a  legitimate 
task  in  constructing  concepts  of  universal  validity.  But  because  phil- 
osophy is  concerned  with  the  significance  of  facts  rather  than  with 
their  accumulation  and  classification;  because  philosophy  regards 
facts  as  having  conceptual  significance,  it  may  affirm  of  them  for  that 
reason  what  is  universally  true,  not  merely  what  is  staticly,  or  tempor- 
ally true.  Within  philosophy  itself,  however,  there  is  a  principle  of 
differentiation ;  so  that  philosophy,  though  having  a  unity  in  the  sense 
indicated,  may  be  said  to  combine  a  number  of  departments  or  dis- 
ciplines. All  disciplines  deal  with  very  much  the  same  presupposi- 
tions; and  the  principles  of  one  department  may  be  translated  into  the 
terms  of  another.  Each  may  with  some  restatement  or  reinterpreta- 
tion,  utilize  the  concepts  of  another  subsuming  them  under  its  own 
higher  and  dominating  category. 

11.  Beauty  is  known  to  us  through  sensuous  experience.  I  have 
no  immediate  experience  of  the  "beauty"  to  be  found  in  such  a  thing 
as  a  mathematical  demonstration;  nor  do  I  attempt  to  define  what 
such  beauty  would  be.  The  perfection,  harmony,  and  congruence  of  a 
demonstration,  or  a  type  in  biology,  might  turn  out  to  be  beauty,  and 
might  not  happen  to  be  concrete.  Still,  I  might  concede  so  much  with- 
out receding  from  the  statement  above  concerning  the  beauty  of  art. 
i  believe  the  beauty  of  ai*t  and  the  so-called  beauty  of  nature  are  two 
different  things.  The  question  at  issue  in  this  discussion  is,  ulti- 
mately, whether  the  beauty  of  art  is  not  identical  with  the  measure  of 
success  or  failure  to  secure  a  solution  of  speculative  difficulties.  In 
this  respect  mathematics  is  no  whit  better  off  than  any  other  depart- 
ment of  experience.  Mathematics  assures  us  of  truth  only  when  it 
can  control  its  presuppositions  and  processes.  Its  speculative  suc- 
cesses and  failures  challenge  the  same  criticism  which  I  urge  against 
reflective  thought  about  art. 

12.  Philosophy  even  in  its  form  may  be  an  expression  of  artistic 
ideals.  Spinoza's  Ethica  may  be  taken  as  embodying  the  artistic  ideals 
of  his  time;  and  Schelling's  philosophical  system  that  of  the  Romantic 
movement.  Something  of  the -same  sort  may  be  seen  in  Spencer:  he 
indeed  speaks  of  his  love  of  system  building.     Autobiography  II :  450. 

79 


13.  Expressions  indicating  a  principle  accounting  for  the  occur- 
rence of  tragedy: 

"Misgoverned  kings  are  cause  of  all  this  wreck." 

— Marlowe:  Edward  II  (Everyman),  p.  270. 
"But  what  is  he  whom  rule  and  empery 
Have  not  in  life  or  death  made  miserable?" 

—Ibid.,  p.  274. 

*  *  *  "material  instruction,  elegant  and  sententious  excita- 
tion to  virtue,  and  defection  from  her  contrary,  being  the  soul,  limbs, 
and  limits  of  an  authentical  tragedy." — Chapman:  Revenge  of  Bussy 
D'Ambois,  Dedication  (Mennaid),  p.  226. 

"The  immortal  powers 
Protect  a  prince,  though  sold  to  impious  acts, 
And  seem  to  slumber,  till  his  roaring  crimes 
Awake  their  justice;  but  then,  looking  down. 
And  with  impartial  eyes,  on  his  contempt 
Of  all  religion,  and  moral  goodness, 
They,  in  their  secret  judgments,  do  determine 
To  leave  him  to  his  wickedness,  which  sinks  him 
When  he  is  most  secure." 

— Massinger:   Roman  Actor  III,  i. 
*     *     *     "and  on  the  stage 
Decipher  to  the  life  what  honors  wait 
On  good  and  glorious  actions,  and  the  shame 
That  treads  upon  the  heels  of  vice," 

Ibid.  I,  i. 

"If  to  express  a  man  sold  to  his  lusts, 
Wasting  the  treasure  of  his  time  and  fortunes 
In  wanton  dalliance,  and  to  what  sad  end 
A  wretch  that's  so  given  over  does  arrive  at;" 
(If  this  be  not  the  purpose  of  tragedy)  : 

"Why  are  not  all  your  golden  principles, 
Writ  down  by  grave  philosophers  to  instruct  us 
To  choose  fair  virtue  for  our  guide,  not  pleasure, 
Condemn'd  into  the  fire?" 

Ibid.  I,  iii. 

14.  Chance  or  fate:  Oedipus  Rex.  Passion:  Ajax.  Cf.  Rutilius 
Lupus  (ed.  Ruhnken)  II,  2.  "The  mother  of  inhumanity  is  avarice; 
its  father  passion.  And  when  these  are  conjoined  they  bring  forth 
hate,  and  from  thence  destruction  also  arises."  Shelley  has  the  idea 
in  Hellas  729  ff. 

"Revenge  and  wrong  bring  forth  their  kind; 
The  foul  cubs  like  their  parents  are; 
Their  den  is  in  the  guilty  mind, 

And  conscience  feeds  them  with  despair." 

80 


See  also  Bloomfield:  Sept.  con.  Th.  210.  Tollius:  Longinus,  sec. 
43.  Sophocles:  Ajax  (ed.  Lobeck)  517.  Aeschylus:  Choephoroe,  lines 
306,  400,  613-651,  1014-1040. 

"Curst  be  all  malice!  black  are  the  fruits  of  spite, 
And  poison  first  their  owners." 

— Middleton:  Trick  to  Catch  the  Old  One,  V,  ii. 

15.  Fallible  nature  of  intellect.  Macbeth  V,  v.  Bussy  D'Ambois 
V,  i.  King  John,  II,  ii  last  speech;  III,  i,  the  conflict  between  dogma 
and  fact;  IV,  ii,  where  John  says: 

"Think  you  I  bear  the  shears  of  destiny? 
Have  I   commandment  on  the  pulse  of  life?" 

And  Faulconbridge  in  IV,  iii : 

"I  am  amaz'd,  methinks;  and  lose  my  way 
Among  the  thorns  and  dangers  of  this  world." 

And  cf.  also  act  V  passim. 

16.  The  dubious  character  of  sensuous  knowledge:  Heracleitus 
frag.  4  (Bywater)  R.  P.  34.  "Eyes  and  ears  are  bad  witnesses  to 
men,  if  they  have  souls  that  understand  not  their  language."  For 
Socrates,  Plato,  Pyrrho,  even  for  Democritus,  sensuous  knowledge 
was  not  wholly  veracious. 

17.  The  dubious  character  of  conceptual  knowledge  was  advo- 
cated by  the  Sophists;  and  later  by  those  who  undertook  to  restrict 
conceptual  knowledge  to  its  proper  sphere:  e.  g.,  Duns  Scotus,  Bacon, 
Locke,  Hobbes,  Hume,  Kant.  Conceptual  knowledge  has  definite  lim- 
itations. 

18.  The  withdrawal  from  pleasure  and  pain  was  accomplished 
for  the  Stoics  and  Epicureans  by  the  absence  of  emotion  (apatheia) ; 
for  the  Skeptics  by  suspension  of  judgment  (epoke)  resulting  in  im- 
perturbability (ataraxia). 

19.  The  experience  of  tragedy  is  reduced  to  the  values  of  con- 
ceptual thought  in  the  theories  of  self-realization  for  which  suffering 
and  defeat  are  of  the  highest  value  for  personality.  This  is  the  view 
of  Cohn:  Allg.  Aesth.  Courtney:  Tragedy.  Ziegler:  Zur  Meta.  d. 
Trag. 

20.  Poetic  justice  was  passed  under  criticism  by  Lipps  and 
Volkelt.  Cf.  Tufts  in  Baldwin's  Dictionary  II :  709,  col.  2,  and  Cohn : 
Allg.  Aesth.  197  n. 

21.  Urban:  Valuation,  p.  279  defines  tragical  or  heroic  elevation 
as  the  limiting  case  of  transgredient  worth.  1.  The  point  at  which  the 
individual  having  taken  an  attitude  with  which  he  identifies  himself 
(hence  a  personal  worth),  sacrifices  all  "condition  worths"  for  it — 
even  life  itself  which  is  the  presupposition  of  all  condition  worths.    2. 

81 


The  point  where  "the  individual  sets  himself  in  complete  opposition  to 
external  worth  judgments  of  society  and  goes  to  destruction  for  the 
worth  which  he  identifies  with  himself  *  *  *  the  absolute  personal 
woi'th  has  been  realized  even  though  the  object  for  which  the  sacrifice 
has  been  made  is,  from  the  impersonal  point  of  view,  not  considered 
worth  the  sacrifice." 

22.  Bosanquet:  Value  and  Destiny  of  the  Individual,  has  shown, 
from  the  metaphysical  point  of  view,  that  the  position  of  the  indi- 
vidual is  not  so  intolerable. 

23.  Ruskin:  Modern  Painters  IX,  ch.  ii,  sec.  14,  15.  His  refer- 
ences are:  A.  The  fate  of  Hippolytus;  B.  the  misfortunes  of  the 
house  of  Atreus;    C.   Antigone. 

24.  Cf.  Hartmann :  Aesthetik  1 :  435  discussing  Schelling.  Besides 
the  classification  of  tragedies  of  fate  as  1.  Objective;  2.  subjective: 
the  destiny  of  character;  destiny  may  be  interpreted  as  1.  The  failure 
of  an  act  to  obtain  moral  sanction;  2.  artistic  retribution  (Nemesis) ;  3. 
moral  retribution  (Justice);  4.  infatuation  of  the  gods  with  their  own 
sense  of  justice  (from  the  standpoint  of  the  hero) . 

25.  The  irony  in  these  concepts  is  the  element  that  defies  ex- 
planation. The  unnatural  combat  in  the  story  of  Oedipus  is  per- 
haps the  best  example  of  tragic  irony.  There  is  a  prophecy  which 
has  the  force  of  destiny,  that  the  son  of  Laius  will  prove  his  death. 
The  son,  Oedipus,  is  exposed;  but  being  preserved,  is  just  the  cir- 
cumstance needed  to  fulfill  the  prophecy  in  a  casual  manner. 

26.  In  Oedipus  at  Coloneus  the  king  is  finally  reconciled  to 
the  gods,  i.  e.,  the  personal  moral  element  in  his  misfortunes  is 
overlooked. 

27.  The  supreme  powers  are  beneficent  in  the  Eumenides  and 
in   the   Philoctetes. 

28.  Cf .  Campbell :  Aeschylus,  Sophocles  and  Shakespeare  p.  60  f. 

29.  Aeschylus  found  an  answer  intelligible  to  himself,  cf.  notes 
6  and  14  above. 

30.  Cf.  the  characters  of  Ajax  or  Medea. 

31.  "Yet  it  is  one  of  Euripides'  rooted  convictions  that  an  abso- 
lute devotion  to  some  one  principle  *  *  *  leads  to  havoc.  The  havoc 
inay  be  on  the  whole  the  best  thing:  it  is  clear  that  Hippolytus  "lived 
well,"  that  his  action  was  kalon;  but  it  did  as  a  matter  of  fact  produce 
malediction  and  suicide  and  murder."  Murray:  Ancient  Greek  Lit. 
p.  270. 

-32.     Ruskin:  Mod.  Paint.  1.  c. 
33.     Browning:  Luria,  Act  V. 

"A  people  is  but  the  attempt  of  many 
To  rise  to  the  completer  life  of  one; 
And  those  who  live  as  models  for  the  mass 
\  Are  singly  of  more  value  than  they  all." 

--^    34.     Thorndike:  Tragedy,  p.  40. 

82 


35.  "The  propositions  of  Aristotle  are  fabrications."  See  Prantl: 
Sitz.  d.  koenig.  Bayr.  Acad.  d.  Wissen.  phil.-philol.  Klasse,  Nov.  2, 
1878,  II,  2,  p.  157.  Taurellus  also  opposed  Aristotelianism,  maintaining 
that  the  world  was  temporal  and  atomic;  and  Tellesius  likewise  opposed 
the  current  philosophy  in  the  interest  of  an  original  investigation  of 
nature. 

36.  Marlowe:   Faustus  (Temple  ed.)  pp.  19,24. 

37.  Similar  ideas  of  Gregory  the  Great.  The  eight  pillars  of 
kingship:  truth  in  things  of  the  throne;  patience  in  diplomacy;  lar- 
gesse; persuasiveness;  correction  of  wrong;  encouragement  of  right; 
light  taxations;  justice  between  rich  and  poor.  See  Carlyle:  Political 
Theories,  I:  225  n. 

38.  Dunning:  Ancient  and  Mediaeval  Political  Theories,  p.  187. 

39.  Abelard:  Ethica  XIII.  Sin  is  not  only  a  departure  from  the 
moral  good,  but  it  is  also  a  violence  done  by  the  sinner  to  his  own 
conscience. 

40.  Poet  Lore,  Winter  Number  1910,  Spring  Number  1911,  where 
I  have  tried  to  state  the  problem  as  a  question  of  the  One  and  the  Many 
in  the  political  sphere. 

41.  Sackville:  Complaint  of  Henry,  stanza  111:  "Who  reckless 
rules,  might  soon  may  hap  to  rue." 

42.  Numerous  expressions  throughout  literature,  e.  g.,  Marlowe: 
Ed-ward  II  (Everyman's  Lib.)  p.  293. 

"Base  Fortune,  now  I  see,  that  in  thy  wheel 
There  is  a  point,  to  which  when  men  aspire, 
They  tumble  headlong  down." 

43.  Fortesque:  De  Laudibus  Legum  Angliae,  ch.  9.  "Which  sort 
of  government  (merely  regal)  the  civil  laws  point  out  when  they 
declare:  'Quod  Principi  placuit,  leges  habet  vigorem.' " 

44.  Edward  II,  p.  277. 

"But  what  ai-e  kings,  when  regiment  is  gone, 
But  perfect  shadows  in  a  sunshine  day?" 
Ibid.  p.  274  see  note  13  above  and  cf.  the  much  later  expression  from 
Sotherne:  Loyal  Brother   (1682). 

"What  is't  to  be  a  prince? 
To  have  a  keener  sense  of  our  misfortunes." 

45.  Schelling:     Elizabethan  Drama   (2  ed.)   I:  268. 

46.  Daniel:  Works  (ed.  Grosart)  III:  106  Cf.  also  his  drama 
Philotas,  431  f. 

"And  this  affliction   our  compassion   draws 
Which  still  looks  on  men's  fortunes,  not  the  cause." 
But  cf.  Johnson:   Sejanus  V,  x,  349    (referring  to  Juvenal,  Sat.  X). 

47.  Shakespeare:  King  John  III:  iv,  121. 

48.  Sackville:  Complaint  of  Henry  stanza  36  and  passim. 

49.  Robert  Greene:  Works  (Huth)  III:  129.  Fortune  was  "such 
a  cause  (according  to  Epicurus),  as  agreed  neither  to  persons,  times, 

83 


nor  manners.  *  *  *  ^\\  future  events  subject  to  causal  in- 
constancy, because  they  hang  in  suspense,  and  may  fall  out  contrary 
to  deliberation,  may  be  comprehended  under  the  word  Fortune."  Other 
expressions  showing  how  to  overcome  Fortune  look  backward  for  their 
origin  and  forward  to  their  fulfilment;  viz.:  "All  Fortune's  goods  with- 
out knowledge  how  to  use  them  are  prejudicial;  and  the  goods  of  the 
mind  only,  firm  and  perpetual."  Ibid.  Ill :  139.  "Being  assured,  there- 
fore, that  there  is  such  uncertainty  in  all  human  things,  let  us  *  *  * 
apply  our  wills  to  all  events  whose  causes  are  altogether  incompre- 
hensible in  respect  of  our  understandings,  and  quite  out  of  our  power 
*  *  *.  That  man  which  dare  stand  so  with  Fortune  in  defiance 
trusteth  not  in  exterior  contents,  but  stayeth  himself  upon  philo- 
sophical precepts."  Ibid.  Ill:  138.  "Canst  thou  condemn  Fortune, 
which  hast  warred  against  nature  and  Fortune?  No,  no;  in  suffering 
reason  to  yield  unto  appetite,  wisdom  unto  will,  and  wit  unto  affection, 
thou  hast  procured  thine  own  death  and  thy  soldiers'  destruction." 
Ibid.  Ill:  219. 

50.  Ironical,  because  fate  operates  under  color  of  justice:  but 
its  acts,  from  the  human  point  of  view,  are  inconsistent.  Fate  feigns 
good- will,  ultimate  good  to  man;  but  as  it  can  be  judged  only  by  its 
results  is  necessarily  thought  of  as  actually  malicious. 

51.  P.  van  Braam,  Class  Quart.  Oct.  1912,  p.  266.  Cf.  Butcher: 
Aristotle's  Phil,  of  Fine  Art,  p.  317. 

52.  "He  (Aristotle)  finds  that  the  problem  of  tragedy  does  not 
lie  so  much  within  the  man  himself  as  in  his  relation  to  the  world: 
not  in  the  complications  and  contradictions  of  his  own  being,  but  in  the 
conflict  with  the  world."    Eucken:  Problem  of  Human  Life,  p.  68. 

53.  Artistotle:  Nic.  Eth.  1100a.  "Why  is  it  not  absurd  to  suppose 
that,  when  a  man  is  happy,  the  fact  will  not  be  true  of  him?"  (It  will 
not  be  true  of  him)  "Because  we  do  not  wish  to  call  the  living  happy 
in  view  of  the  vicissitudes  to  which  they  are  liable;  and  because  we 
have  found  a  conception  of  happiness  as  something  which  is  permanent 
and  unchangeable;  and  because  the  same  persons  are  liable  to  many 
changes  of  fortune.  It  is  evident  that  if  we  consider  only  the  changes 
of  fortune,  we  shall  often  call  the  same  person  happy  at  one  time  and 
miserable  at  another,  representing  the  happy  man  as  a  chameleon. 
To  take  cognizance  of  the  changes  of  foi'tune  cannot  be  right  at  all. 
It  is  not  on  these  that  good  and  evil  depend;  they  are  inseparable  ac- 
cidents of  human  life  as  we  have  said.  But  it  is  man's  activities  in 
accordance  with  virtue  that  constitute  his  happiness,  and  the  opposite 
activities  that  constitute  his  misery." 

54.  Idem.  1178a.  "It  is  only  in  a  secondary  sense  that  the  life 
which  accords  with  non-speculative  virtue  can  he  said  to  be  happy;  for 
the  virtues  of  such  activity  are  human :  they  have  no  divine  element  in 
them  *  *  *  But  the  happiness  which  consists  in  the  exei'cise  of  the 
reason  and  that  of  non-speculative  virtue  are  entirely  disparate." 

84 


55.  Idem.  1104a.  "For  the  particular  case  in  the  performance  of 
virtuous  activities  does  not  fall  under  the  rule  by  any  art  or  law,"  for 
in  this  respect  (1106b.)  "virtue,  like  nature  herself,  is  more  accurate 
and  better  than  any  art." 

56.  Aristotle:  Meta.  E.  recognizes  the  impossibility  of  denying 
that  the  accidental  exists  and  the  impossibility  of  a  science  of  the 
accidental,  i.  e.,  of  rationalizing  it. 

57.  I  use  the  word  "external"  quite  innocently  and  do  not  deny 
that  man  is  also  subject  internally  to  fate.  cf.  Goodell  in  Yale  Rev. 
April,  1913. 

58.  The  recognition  of  necessity  need  not  be  construed  as  despair 
or  skepticism.  Recognition  of  the  lawfulness  of  the  world  is  what 
makes  it  rational;  and  this  is  what  gives  us  the  right  to  hope  that 
the  world  may  be  reconciled  to  man's  will. 

59.  Murray:   Hibbert  Journal  IX:    19. 

60.  Pliny:  Natural  History  II,  5,  (ed.  Miller  1766)  saw  this 
point  quite  clearly:  "Throughout  the  whole  world  at  every  place 
and  time,  the  name  of  Fortune  alone  is  spoken  and  her  name  invoked. 
She  is  the  one  defendant,  the  one  culprit,  the  one  thought  in  men's 
minds,  the  one  object  of  praise,  the  one  cause.  *  *  *  We  are  so 
much  at  the  mercy  of  Fortune  that  Fortune  is  our  God." 

61.  Seneca:  Epistles,  65,  2.  Eucken,  op.  c.  p.  68.  Numerous 
variations  on  the  same  theme  are  given  by  Ueberweg:  History  of 
Philosophy  I,  sec.  55. 

62.  Lucretius  II:  216.   Cicero:  De,  Fin.  I,  6.   De  Nat.  Deor.  I,  26. 

63.  Diogenes  Laertius  X,  76. 

64.  "Fortune  but  slightly  crosses  the  wise  man's  path;  his 
greatest  and  highest  interests  are  directed  by  reason  throughout  the 
course  of  life."  Hicks:  Stoic  and  Epicurean,  p.  187,  maxim  XVI. 
(trans,    from  Eusener:    Epicurea). 

65.  Hicks,  p.  186,  frag.  XI,  XII.  "If  we  had  never  been  mo- 
lested by  alarms  at  celestial  and  atmospheric  phenomena,  nor  by  the 
misgiving  that  death  somehow  affects  us,  nor  by  neglect  of  the  proper 
limits  of  pain  and  desires,  we  should  have  no  need  to  study  natural 
science."  "It  would  be  impossible  to  banish  fears  on  matters  of  the 
highest  importance  if  a  man  did  not  know  the  nature  of  the  whole  uni- 
verse but  lived  in  dread  of  what  legends  tell  us." 

66.  Diog.  Laei't.  X,  passim.  Lucretius  III:  59-93.  Cicero:  De 
Fin.  I,  13,  14.   Tusc.  Disp.  I,  xl,  xlii,  xlv. 

67.  Hegesias,  the  Cyrenaic,  despaired  of  rising  above  change  by 
thought  alone:  "But  mere  reflection  on  our  general  condition  is  not 
sufficient  to  elevate  us  above  the  changes  of  Fortune,  since  our  gen- 
eral condition  is  not  under  our  control." 

68.  Diog.  Laert.  IX.    Sextus  Empiricus:  Ad  Math.  XI. 

69.  Boethius  Consolation  of  Philosophy.  Book  III  is  an  exami- 
nation of  this  problem. 

85 


70.  Augustine:  De  Lib.  Arbit.  II,  19.  De  Civ.  Dei.  XI,  XII, 
passim. 

71.  Anselm:  Proslogium,  I. 

72.  Augustine,  1.  c. 

73.  Boethius,  Bk.  II,  pr.  1,  2,  4,  5,  7,  8;  Bk  III,  pr.  5.  Cf. 
Sotherne:  Works  (1721)  I:  38. 

"Greatness  (the  earnest  of  malicious  fate 
For  future  woe)  was  never  meant  a  good." 

74.  Chaucer:  Monk's  Prologue.  This  idea  dominates  a  class 
of  literature,  e.  g.,  Boccaccio:  De  casibus  virorum  illustrium;  Lydgate's 
translation  as  the  Falls  of  Princes;  and  its  so-called  continuation  in 
the  Mirrour  for  Magistrates. 

75.  Puttenham:  Arte  of  English  Poesie,  1589,  Pt.  I,  ch.  xi.  Sid- 
ney: Apology  for  Poetry  (Arber)  p.  45.  Moulton:  Shakespeare  as  a 
Dramatic  Artist,  p.  187. 

76.  Eucken:  Problem  of  Human  Life  (Eng.  trans.),  p.  136. 
Schopenhauer:  World  as  Will   (Eng.  trans.)   Ill:  218. 

77.  Popular  superstition,  e.  g.,  witchcraft,  I  have  not  dealt  with 
as  belongfing  specifically  to  this  age.  The  age  believed  in  witchcraft 
to  the  extent  that  it  was  irrational  and  should  be  stamped  out.  But 
every  age  has  such  extraordinary  popular  delusions.  Here  it  is  the  ir- 
rationality of  emotion  that  concerns  me. 

78.  Eucken,  op.  c.  346.    Cf.  Dryden:   Song  for  St.  Cecilia's  Day 

"From  Harmony,  from  heavenly  harmony 
This  universal  frame  began 
When  nature  underneath  a  heap 
Of  jarring  atoms  lay." 

79.  As  in  the  dramas  of  Ford. 

80.  Descartes:    Letter  to  Princess  Elizabeth.    Oeuvres,  IX:  210. 

81.  Geulincx,  quoted  by  Land  in  Mind,  XVI :  235. 

82.  Spinoza:  Ethica,  Bk.  Ill,  prop.  xxiv.  Bk.  IV,  preface. 

83.  Descartes:  Letter  to  Catherine  of  Sweden,  Oeuvres  X:  59. 

84.  It  is  perhaps  a  commonplace  of  criticism  that  in  this  period 
reason  and  morality  are  coming  to  be  the  standard  of  literai-y  judg- 
ment. (Ristine:  English  Tragi-Comedy,  p.  188).  But  reason  in  this 
case  is  so  often  equivalent  to  poetic  justice  that  a  counterblast  will 
be  tolerated.  Addison:  Spectator  40:  "But  I  am  sure  it  (poetic  jus- 
tice) has  no  foundation  in  Nature,  in  Reason,  or  in  the  Practice  of  the 
Ancients."  Cf.  Spectator  548.  Goldsmith:  Art  of  Poetry,  1761,  II: 
170:  "It  is  a  dispute  indeed  among  critics  whether  virtue  should 
always  be  rewarded  and  vice  punished  in  the  catastrophe  of  a  tragedy; 
but  the  reasons  on  the  negative  side  seem  the  strongest." 

85.  But  cf.  Lessing:  "If  the  poet  chooses  a  martyr,  let  him  give 
to  his  actions  the  purest  motives  and  unalterable  necessity  of  taking 

86 


the  step  that  places  him  in  danger."  Lessing  would  agree  that  the 
sight  of  the  innocent  suffering  would  displace  the  softer  emotions 
by  a  sense  of  outraged  justice.  Ham.  Dram.  (Bohn)  p.  435.  Cf. 
Butcher,  op.  c.  309. 

86.  Wetz:  Shakespeare  v.  Standpunkt  d.  vergl.  Litt.  Pt.  I, 
1890  (Reviewed  in  Mind,  XVI:  296).  Wetz  points  out  that  Shake- 
speare's characters  act  from  emotion  and  affection  but  never  from 
pure  reason.  Comeille  and  Racine  cause  their  characters  to  act 
from  reasoned  principles  but  in  many  cases  they  strive  against 
passions  which  they  cannot  resist.  In  this  respect,  Shakespeare  is 
nearer  to  the  position  of  Hume  and  the  later  position  of  Comte  and 
Schopenhauer;  while  Comeille  is  nearer  to  that  of  Descartes:  his 
characters  are  Spinozistic  casuists. 

87.  Calderon:  Life  a  Dream. 

"For  the  greatest  crime  of  man 
Is  that  he  was  bom." 

88.  von  Hartmann,  op.  c.  I:  435. 

89.  Schopenhauer,  op.  c.  Ill:  212. 

90.  Chapman  in  Hibbert  Journal  VIII:  865. 

91.  Courtney:  Tragedy,  p.  75. 

92.  Campbell:    Aeschylus,  Sophocles  etc.  d.  51  f- 

93.  Cf.  Bradley:  Appearance  and  Reality,  ch.  xxvi. 

94.  Campbell,  1.  c. 

95.  Cohn:  AUg.  Aesth.  179  n.  Lipps:  Streit  u.  d.  Tragoedie  and 
Volkelt:  System,  for  the  idea  of  Guilt. 

96.  Lessing,  op.  c.  St.  79.  Schiller:  Briefe  II:  226.  Krause  dis- 
cussed in  von  Hartmann  I:  439.  Ziegler:  Das  Gefiihl  2  ed.  138,  140. 
Cohn,  op.  c.  199. 

97.  Muensterberg:  Eternal  Values,  p.  234  f.  Cohn  1.  c.  reminis- 
cent of  heroic  tragedy:  "The  tragic  is  the  sublimity  of  suffering  and 
sacrifice,  or  the  suffering  of  a  worthy  person,  whereby  his  greatness 
in  sorrow  is  proved." 

98.  Gordon:  Aesthetics  278  f.  Puffer:  Psych,  of  Beauty.  Muen- 
sterberg 1.  c. 

99.  Urban.  1.  c. 

100.  Schelling:  Werke,  I,  x:  118. 

101.  Hamann  in  Zeit.  f.  Phil.  u.  philos.  Kritik,  Bd.  117,  S.  231. 

102.  Vaughan:  Types  of  Tragic  Drama,  p.  15. 

103.  "Overstepping  the  due  bounds  of  finiteness"  may  mean 
that  the  spirit  in  its  ideals  is  capricious  and  that  we  fail  just  be- 
cause ideals  can  be  nothing  more  than  ideals. 

104.  Cohn:  Allg.  Aesth.  S.  198. 

105.  Schelling:  Philos.  d.  Kunst  S.  695. 

106.  Vischer  1.  c. 

107.  Eucken  op.  c.  pp.  146,  182. 

87 


108.  Solger:  Vorlesungen  ueber  Aesthetik,  S.  309  f.  "The  ar- 
bitrariness and  contingency  of  the  individual  fall  into  conflict  with 
the  laws  of  universal  necessity,  by  which  the  particular  is  lost;  but 
only  in  so  far  as  everything  completely  finite  and  temporal  is;  while 
the  eternal  and  essential,  ever  the  same  with  itself  throughout  per- 
petual contradiction,  is  energized  and  glorified." 

109.  Michelet,  op.  c.  Ill:  443. 

110.  Lotze:  Outlines  of  Aesthetics,  p.  104. 

111.  Bradley  in  Hibbert  Journal  II:  667. 

112.  Hegel:  Vorl.  ueber  die  Aesthetik,  III:  529,  480. 

113.  Bahnsen's  general  theoiy  in  Widerstreit  im  Wesen  and  in 
Das  Tragische  als  Weltgesetz. 

114.  Solger  in  general  follows  Schelling  on  this  point;  Zeising 
and  Krause  express  similar  views. 

115.  Hegel:  op.  c.  Ill:  526,  530f. 

116.  Ibid.  Ill:  550f.  Phenomenology  of  Spirit  (Eng.  trans.)  II: 
746  ff. 

117.  Solger,  op.  c.  SS.  94f,  309f.  Michelet:  Gesch.  der  letzten 
Systeme,  II:  560-598.    Bosanquet:  History  of  Aesthetic  p.  395. 

118.  Solger's  dialectic  is  so  devious  that  I  have  tried  to  state 
his  position  in  my  own  way. 

119.  Bahnsen:  Zur  Philos.  d.  Geschichte  is  directed  against  the 
rehabilitation  of  the  Hegelian  factor  of  Reason  in  the  universe.  See 
the  notes  on  Bahnsen  above. 

120.  Kallen  in  Journal  of  Phil.  Psych,  and  Sci.  Meth.  vol.  XI,  no. 
11.  Comedy  "deals  not  with  individuals  but  with  types:  it  is  external 
and  observational,  not  intei'nal  and  imaginative.  Only  averages  are 
its  care  and  the  inductive  sciences  its  kin,  in  that  in  method  and  ob- 
ject its  'observation  is  always  external  and  the  result  always  gen- 
eral.' "  The  significance  of  this  remark  I  take  to  be  that  comedy  is 
possible  only  in  a  world  in  which  the  inductive  method  of  science  gives 
true  results. 

121.  Muensterberg  op.  c.  236.  In  comedy  the  "will  at  first  poses 
as  great,  but  as  soon  as  it  has  to  confine  itself  under  the  pressure  of 
the  counter  will,  is  just  as  well  satisfied  with  the  smallest  bit  of  ful- 
filment." 

122.  Meredith  insists  on  a  polished  and  complex  society  for  the 
inilieu  of  comedy;  the  function  of  which  is  the  maintenance  of  custom 
and  the  suppression  of  vice  and  follies.  This  reminds  us  of  Ben  Jon- 
son  :  the  comedy  of  satire  is  evidently  the  only  kind  here  referred  to. 
So  for  Hegel  the  world  of  comedy  is  a  democracy. 

123.  Adams:  Aesthetic  Experience,  p.  104. 

124.  Puffer,  o.  c.  Gordon,  o.  c. 

125.  Muensterberg,  1.  c. 

126.  Schopenhauer,  o.  c.  Ill :  218  ff. 

127.  Michelet:  System  etc.  Ill:  443. 

8S 


128.  Krause:  Vorl.  u.  Aesth.  sec.  72. 

129.  Solger,  o.  c.  317  ff. 

130.  It  is  with  the  consistency  of  the  concept  that  I  am  here 
concerned  and  not  with  the  fact  that  causes  sometimes  run  counter 
to  the  best  laid  plans.  Even  in  comic  di-ama  there  is  much  gambling  on 
the  unknowable,  i.  e.,  chance.  To  be  forearmed  with  knowledge  reduces 
chance  to  the  mere  memory  that  we  experienced  some  subjective  un- 
certainty. 

131.  I  need  only  to  refer  to  those  stock  situations  in  which  a 
significant  name,  a  ring,  etc.,  shows  that  perceptual  knowledge  of  a 
world  which  is  not  duplicit,  of  which  knowledge  is  a  copy,  is  sufficient 
to  solve  many  mysterious  complexities,  at  least  those  which  might  arise 
from  ignorance  of  the  testimony  of  the  senses. 

132.  Cf.  Dowden's  introduction  to  this  play  in  the  Temple  series. 

133.  In  the  English  comedy  of  the  Orange  period,  for  example, 
there  is  usually  a  simple  resolution  of  the  difficulty  which  was  due 
to  the  casualty  of  human  wills  working  without  restraint.  The  con- 
flict shows  clearly  to  the  spectator  that  knowledge  is  adequate  to 
solve  the  difficulties,  except  that  such  knowledge  is  not  always  forth- 
coming at  the  right  time  to  prevent  some  misunderstanding,  and 
not  always  without  some  reorganization  of  the  plan  of  action.  This 
is  not  always  possible  for  the  actor  within  the  limits  of  the  time  and 
space  relations  which  he  must  overcome.  Where  ordinary  understand- 
ing is  able  to  effect  this  reorganization,  it  is  evident  that  the  employ- 
ment of  adventitious  aids  in  solving  the  difficulty  is  only  symbolic. 
The  limitation  of  time  and  space  and  artistic  effect  sometimes  make 
this  use  of  adventitious  aid  desirable  or  necessary.  This  is  the  rea- 
son why  the  comic  hero  so  often  holds  all  the  lines  of  action  in  his 
grasp  and  can  appear  on  the  stage  at  just  the  right  time. 

134.  E.  g.,  the  fatality  of  character  when  it  is  exposed  on  a 
small  scale.     Chapman  in  Hibbert  Journal  VIII:  865. 

135.  A  comedy  of  an  utterly  capricious  world  is  to  me  a  con- 
tradiction in  terms:  such  a  thing  cannot  even  be  conceived.  It  is 
true  that  a  comedy  in  which  chance  largely  figures  represents  a 
world  seemingly  capricious.  But  this  kind  of  caprice  to  give  us  comedy 
by  definition  must  really  be  not  caprice  at  all:  but  merely  the  shock 
of  orderly  knowledge  in  process  of  discovery.  One  might  say  that  the 
comedies  of  Ben  Jonson  are  built  up  of  this  orderly,  through  seem- 
ingly capricious,  experience.  Yet  it  is  evident  that  the  Jonsonian 
type  of  comedy  reveals  nothing  in  its  solution  that  blasts  our  rational 
faculties  or  makes  it  impossible  for  us  to  maintain  our  equilibrium 
in  the  world.  It  is  in  the  utterly  capricious  world  of  the  hypothesis 
that  an  identity  would  exist  between  tragedy  and  comedy.  It  is  signi- 
ficant therefore  that  aesthetic  speculation,  no  matter  what  its  theoreti- 
cal presuppositions,  makes  a  radical  differentiation  in  its  dramatic 
concepts. 

89 


136.  Remembering  Schleiermacher's  contention  concerning  Soc- 
rates that  the  consti-uction  of  complete  systems  of  thought  is  made 
possible  by  the  idea  of  knowledge. 

137.  Fairbairn:  Place  of  Christ  in  Modern  Theologj',  p.  196  con- 
cerning Lessing. 

138.  Cf.  the  citations  from  Michelet,  Schopenhauer,  and  Calderon. 

139.  Descartes:    Discourse  on  Method  (Open  Court  ed.)  p.  27. 


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